


Footprints on the Heart

by gayhacker



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday Presents, Chatting & Messaging, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, High School, Love Confessions, M/M, Manipulation, POV Alternating, Raijin Days, Secret Admirer, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6252640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayhacker/pseuds/gayhacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo Heiwajima has a secret admirer, one that seems to understand him better than anyone has in a long time. What starts as Izaya manipulating Shizuo by pretending to be a girl in love with him may end in the two actually being loved for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Pretty Face

As someone who had spent many years observing many different people, nothing made humans quite as interesting as love, Izaya thought. He had witnessed people commit suicide over rejection, over infidel lovers, over broken hearts and lost time. He had witnessed people kill over these same things - fall into crippling depression or the the highest of manias. With every situation a person felt love in, their infinite reservoir of possible reactions increased infinitely. Love was a joker, and with every game played love had different rules, different requirements. To where one might feel jealousy, another might feel despair, and while the former might eventually lead to the latter it was the gut reactions which varied, all in the name of love.

As he was thinking this, Izaya estimated there was at least two people being rejected, three people being cheating on, four being dumped, and five being confessed to. Absentmindedly, he fingered a rose colored envelope in his jacket pocket, from a girl whose name he only knew because she had confessed to sixteen of his classmates this winter, only to be rejected by every single one. To her, he was just the newest muse to her fantasies, another good looking boy to daydream about when she didn’t understand math lessons. He could picture the inside of the card before he even thought about opening it, neat penmanship that came with the practice of writing so many love notes that read:

_Orihara,_

_I have admired you from afar, I doubt you would ever notice or know the name of someone like me. Someone like you, so handsome and intelligent, I can’t help but think of you throughout the day and dream of you at night. I send this as a confession of my love, in hopes that you will reciprocate, but of course why would you, for someone like me? In the off chance you will grace me with your compassion, or perhaps pity, I will be waiting at the leftmost bench in front of the school after the bell. Oh, how my heart longs to be with yours, it is as if we are being brought together by a foreign force! I love you with all my being, though you may not even know who I am. I will accept that, though, because loving you is enough._

Or something like that. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother showing up, instead leaving the unopened envelope on the bench, but he was curious to see how she would react to the first out of seventeen boys sitting in the designated spot, without having read the card nonetheless.

Izaya flipped open his phone, noting that there was still nine more minutes before class let out. He had failed to return to class after lunch for the very reason of making sure he was the one waiting for her, not vice versa. It wasn’t all that unusual for him to miss class, whether it be the whole day or just half. To him, school was more of a game than anything else - he showed up when there was something interesting brewing, which was just enough of the time that Izaya wouldn’t be expelled. It was much more intriguing to prowl the edges of the school, shadowing delinquents and placing illicit bets on fights. Occasionally he would even leave campus, wander around downtown picking up traces of conversations, trailing people on the yakuza’s blacklist, witnessing _real_ brawls, not simply the petty schoolyard type. More commonly than these, however, he sought a shaded corner of the schoolyard or rooftop, and spent the day scrolling through countless online forums, message boards, chat rooms, and threads. It was the easiest and most efficient way of obtaining anything from the latest gossip to the names of the dealers circulating hot new drugs on the underground. Not that he was using this information for personal gain most of the time. It was enough for Izaya to know what was going on in Ikebukuro, down to the last centimeter of movement… for now.

Fingers moving across the keyboard, he typed in the access password for one his particular favorite forums - Raijin Rag. It was an underground school newspaper that could only be accessed online, with a weekly-changing password that was supposedly only spread by word of mouth, as to prevent other high schools or even faculty from logging on. Started by the editor-in-chief of the official school paper, Raijin Rag had begun as little more of a gossip page for school scandals and flings, but with some contributions and encouragement from Izaya ,was now nearly a database of detailed profiles of every single student and staff at Raijin. A notification in the upper lefthand corner of his screen alerted him that one of the pages that he’d subscribed to had been updated, and the left corner of his mouth stretched into a smirk. _Throwing a teacher’s car, huh…_ _Poor, innocent first years._

Several other edits had been made to various pages and subpages, but none that interested Izaya nearly as much as the update on Heiwajima Shizuo. He hummed tunelessly as he checked his six email addresses, refreshing webpages until the bell finally rang. Plastering a carefully crafted expression of apprehension and a tinge of  boredom across his face, he glanced back and forth from the screen of his phone to the entrance of the school several times, feigning anxiety well enough that any passerby that didn’t know him would have pegged him as simply a nervous, hopeless romantic. Well, didn’t know his face, that was. His name was being increasingly well-known around the school, but in a very different way than Heiwajima Shizuo’s. Rather than blanching and paleing, stuttering and stammering, when students heard the name Izaya Orihara they would furrow their brows, like the name was a thought on the tip of their tongues. A boy not to mess with, certainly, but exactly who he was and why he shouldn’t be bothered… well, no one ever seemed to quite remember that, which was exactly as Izaya wanted it.

Feeling a gaze hit him, Izaya glanced up from his phone towards the doors where the last students were trickling out, dawdling with friends or lugging bags with enough books to be used as a weapon. In their midst, a short girl with curling hair tied into a ponytail turned her eyes to the cement sidewalk just before Izaya’s own met them. Her looks weren’t anything special - she was a remarkably plain girl who he could barely remember seeing in his class. Of course, that might have been attributed to his poor attendance, Izaya thought, but he didn’t go out of his way to remember the faces of the bland nondescript either. The room in his brain was better saved for much more interesting types of people.

His eyes calculatingly drifted back to his phone screen, blinked too heavily, the facade of his anxiety seamless. Her delicate footsteps were easy to make out amongst the others, hesitation making them stammer like a kid giving a speech in front of his class. When they finally stopped, Izaya looked up at her slowly, pushing a nervous grin across his face. “Mayu?”

“Orihara!” She exclaimed, blushing at the use of her first name. Her gaze was still locked on the ground, hands gripping the sides of her skirt just like every other girl who thought she liked, or perhaps loved, someone. It was predictable, and Izaya hated predictable.

“I’m so glad you came, Orihara. No one’s ever come before…" she trailed off, color creeping further up her cheeks.

“How many others have you confessed to, then?” His tone was casual and lighthearted, and Izaya even threw in a nervous-sounding chuckle for good measure. Mayu didn’t look up, but had she she would have been privy to the brightness in Izaya’s eyes that was just ever so slightly _off._

“Just two!” She exclaimed, eyes still focused intently on the ground. “Uh, one was last year though…”

The gleam in Izaya’s eyes intensified, the wheels in his mind churning. He could have some fun with this, if she really didn’t know anything about him like it seemed.

“Mayu,” he started, “do you want to know why I came?” With that she looked up, and when she did Izaya did nothing to mask the intensity in his eyes. _She’ll mistake it for interest in her as a person - romantic interest that is, anyways. Not interest in her as a human, or rather_ because _she_ is _a human._ Mayu nodded slowly, eyes widening in a very unsubtle and unsuccessful attempt to look cute.

“It’s because the letter that you slipped into my desk, it was so beautiful and poetic. It made me want to know you better, Mayu, the person who can write such beautiful words.”

“I’m so glad! I really am so glad that you think so, Orihara.” Izaya could practically hear her delusional heart pounding in her chest, could feel her elatedness in the air.

“I was just wondering though,” Izaya started, an imperceptible bit of cockiness threading itself through his words. “Why me? What makes me different?”

Her grin fell just a little bit, and Izaya’s broadened. _Gotcha._

“Well, I always see you by yourself, or with Kishitani, and you seemed kind of lonely. I guess I took a liking to you because you’re mysterious, Orihara.” Mysterious - that’s a new one, Izaya thought, laughing internally. Really, if anyone bothered to pay attention, he didn’t hide much about himself. It was to his advantage that they didn’t pay attention - it allowed him to observe, and to do things like this.

“Lonely? How could I be lonely when I have all these people around me?” Hopping onto the bench, he spread his arms wide, and Mayu, suddenly even smaller then him, tilted her face up, concern and confusion apparent in her eyes and furrowed brow.

“And mysterious? Is that what you used to describe Makoto? How about Nakata? Or maybe Makishima? Although isn’t he too flamboyant to be mysterious?” Izaya paused as if to consider the matter, hand resting on his chin, while below him his classmate’s eyes widened once more, this time in horror.

“How did you…” Laughing, Izaya jumped down from his pedestal, bending over to look the girl in her widened eyes.

“Did you really think it wouldn’t go around? That you’ve confessed your _love_ -“ he spat the word out as if it were something filthy, grinning all the while - “to sixteen, now seventeen, second years this year? Raijin isn’t all that large, it was bound to get out somehow.”

“So what if I’ve confessed to a lot of boys? Maybe I just have a lot of love to go around!” Defensiveness. Now this was a path Izaya hadn’t expected, and he giggled cheerfully at the twist in his favor the conversation was taking. Despite having predicted her to burst into tears and run off, she had retorted, albeit with a fallacy. The opportunity to continue the conversation was certainly more interesting than having it end before it had even begun.

“Well, I’d humor your argument - only you don’t have any love to go around at all. Infatuation? Obsession? Delusional feelings? Plenty of those. But love?” Izaya tilted his head back, letting out a bark of laughter towards the clear winter sky.

Her answer shocked him even more than the last had, giving him great satisfaction out of the pure unpredictability. “What would know about love, Orihara?” Mayu’s voice was quiet but firm, absent of the shakiness that usually came when one was upset or near tears, which Izaya had thought she’d be by now..

Eyes snapping back down from the clouds to the girl’s own, absent of teariness he noted, he dramatically swept out his arms once more, grin never faltering. “I love humans, of course. Every single human - I have equal love for all of them, and it’s not romantic or platonic - it’s just love. When you love humans you do all you can to learn about them, to watch them succeed and fail and excel and regress.

“I might not know anything about the sort of love you think you’re feeling, but neither do you. I’d guess that you’re just using me and all the other boys as a face to escape reality. How can you love someone you don’t even know, I wonder? I mean, what do I know, it could be possible, but it doesn’t change the fact that you only think I’m attractive and know nothing of the personality you claim to love as well. Do you only love my face then? That might be more accurate, I think. But it doesn’t sound as romantic to say you only love someone’s looks, now does it?

“Then again, the vague confession you left wasn’t very romantic either - I didn’t even have to open mine to know there was barely anything specific to me in it, and the majority was comprised of appeals to pity. Not that I’m judging - textbook manipulation can come in handy! But did you really think you loved me? Do you still love me now?” There was genuine curiosity underlying Izaya’s condescension; his eyes bright and face eager to hear how the girl in front of him would respond.

There was a moment where neither spoke, where Izaya cocked his head at Mayu as if she was a math problem he couldn’t quite figure out the answer to, and then she inhaled sharply, eyes blazing.

“You’re absolutely insane, you know?”

Izaya shrugged dejectedly, smile sliding off his face like a melting ice cream cone. _So she went for the insanity card. How stereotypical._ “You’re not the first one to tell me that. But you didn’t answer my question - do you still love me now?”

The only response he was graced with was a derisive snort and a clumsy kick aimed in between his legs, which he managed to jump out of the way of with little effort. The corner of his mouth twitched once more - he hadn’t suspected her to be the violent type. It was no matter, his agility was superior to most of the student body’s.

A cold wind blew soundlessly through the now deserted schoolyard as Mayu spun on her heel and walked briskly away from Raijin. Izaya watched her leave wordlessly, until she spun around and called something over her shoulder. With the wind, it took Izaya a moment to process what she had said.

“No one will _ever_ love you, you know.”

 


	2. Three's a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo doesn't like attention - which is exactly what a note placed on his desk from a so-called secret admirer brings.

The words stuck with Izaya throughout the following days, though not in the way one might expect. There were no feelings of self consciousness, self hatred, or despair over the words of one girl who had said he would never be loved. Instead, the statement had brought a different matter to mind, after it had been twisted and warped beyond recognition by the inner workings of his thoughts. Although the statement might apply to him, surely there were others it did as well. Other people who would never be loved by anyone. Other people who _had_ never been loved by anyone. Other people who’d never been told they were loved by anyone.

Of course, despite Izaya’s vast wealth of information, he couldn’t know those things about most people. He could guess, sure, but at the end of the day whether someone loved someone or whether someone was loved - well, there was no way for him to be certain. But there was something he could know, that was available to him at his very fingertips. Something that had happened to him only a few short days ago. Something that had started this all.

Confessions.

According to Raijin Rag, eighty-six percent of the school hadn’t been confessed to that year. Of that number, fifty-two percent were boys. And of those boys, there were another thirty-seven percent who hadn’t been confessed to the year before that. Fifteen percent were third years who hadn’t been confessed to in all three years. A grin crept across Izaya’s face as he scanned the list of names he had compiled and copied into a spare notebook. Teeth flashed as he uncapped a red marker and circled one name.

Heiwajima Shizuo.

With Valentine’s Day being less than a month away, Izaya figured he had better begin as soon as possible. The following Monday he strayed from his usual route of walking home after school to stop by a stationary store three blocks out of his way -  reviews online said it had the most variety and highest quality in the area. _Only the best will do for Shizu-chan._

Only the best would do, which is why when he put the stationary set complete with paper decorated with plump pink hearts and frills, a heart-shaped stamp, a variety of ballpoint pens, sickeningly pink envelopes, and a sheet of stickers appropriately comprised of varying cakes and sweets on the counter for purchase, and when the young clerk asked him if this was for a special young lady, Izaya smiled with all semblance of humble sincerity and nodded firmly. _More like a special monster. Isn’t that right, Shizu-chan?_

He wrote and rewrote his declaration of love for Shizuo until it was nearly three in the morning, the only light in the room being the dimmed glow of his computer screen. The corners of his mouth were turned up as stretched out on his bed, still in his uniform from the day prior. Adrenaline composed of anticipation and exhilaration ran through his body, preventing his eyes from closing or his breathing from slowing, but that was okay. Unfocused, he flipped through his usual boards and forums, subconsciously noting that there was nothing interesting enough to devote his full attention to. When the first pale pink and orange hints of sunrise were visible outside his window, Izaya, opened the stationary kit, uncapped a pink pen, and began to write in his best imitation of a girl’s flowing handwriting.

_Dearest Shizuo,_

_Your blonde hair did more than just capture my attention, it captured my heart - along with your sharp features and hidden gentleness underneath your strength. I think of you often and when you pass by me, paying me no mind, I smile to myself. I’ve decided that with Valentine’s Day rapidly approaching, I would confess my love in a series of notes leading up to February 14th. On that day I shall reveal my identity and offer my heart to you, Shizuo, in hopes that you won’t crush it, though I should be honored if you did that too._

_Your secret admirer,_

_Kanra_

 

It was just as sappy and only slightly more specific than Mayu’s confession had been, as sugary sweet as the shortcake stickers Izaya was delicately placing around the edges of the paper. Izaya would have gagged while writing it (as if Shizuo had any gentleness underneath his monstrous exterior!) if it weren’t for the giddiness he felt at the possibilities of Shizuo’s reaction. The boy was only barely human enough to count in Izaya’s book, but perhaps this exchange would turn him into a full blown beast. If Shizuo were to lose the last of his humanity, Izaya wanted to be the one to place the last straw on his back.

 

Izaya danced out into the street under the rising sun, skipping offbeat with his hands in his pockets, savoring the cold air that bit through his jacket and rustled his hair. Though he hadn’t slept he felt more awake than usual, the chilliness of the early hour bringing him to full alertness along with the self satisfaction fueling his smirk. The envelope, addressed to Shizuo, was in the frontmost pocket of the backpack he didn’t usually bother to bring with him to school as to not get crumpled, and a note on the kitchen table alerted Mairu and Kururi that their Iza-nii had left early for an important meeting at school, and could they please make sure they got to school themselves so that the police wouldn’t come after them? It wouldn’t do to have criminal sisters, after all - it would put quite the stain on Izaya’s impeccable reputation.

As he neared the school he broke into a sprint, launching himself over the closed gates in a way that would have been considered flashy had he had an audience. As it was, even the birds were silent, long since having left to migrate for the winter, their songs on pause until spring.

There was no one to witness the dark-haired boy dropping the pink envelope onto the desk of Shizuo Heiwajima, saunter out the door, and back off the campus to wait.

There was, however, a large audience crowded around Shizuo Heiwajima’s desk that Monday morning when he walked into his classroom, bag slung over his shoulder in a very delinquent-esque manner. At first, Shizuo didn’t realize that it was his desk they were crowded around, simply suspecting typical high school drama with any of the numerous kids who were much less socially isolated than him. Fragments of conversation ghosted through his ears, and it wasn’t until he heard his name that he made his presence known.

“A love confession?”

“Should we open it?”

“No way, he’ll kill us for sure.”

“You think it’s a prank?”

“Who’s Kanra?”

“Did anyone see-”

“No, it was just _there_.”

“Of all people, _Heiwajima..”_

And with this he cleared his throat, eyebrow twitching. Once the first student saw who it was glowering over them, the crowd immediately scattered to their respected desks, still whispering, phones buzzing as what Shizuo imagined were photos of the letter began to circulate. _There’s no way in hell I’m making a spectacle over this._ Tucking the letter into his bag, Shizuo sat down silently to the disappointment and dismay of his classmates who’d been hoping for a show. Down the hall, Izaya Orihara’s phone chimed as did several others’, and poker faced, he opened the message. Allowing the slightest of frowns to dip across his face, he sighed. _So he’s not opening it in public. Well, I guess you aren’t as much of an idiot as I thought, Shizu-chan. Still, I can’t imagine you’ll take kindly to being watched like a hawk all day, now will you?_

Whispers and sidelong glances were still following Shizuo when lunch rolled around, and he flopped down on the rooftop next to Shinra, who stared at him bemusedly. This had been their arrangement for lunch since Shinra arrived at Raijin, Shizuo having been sitting by himself his entire first year, wishing for Tom or some other company that wouldn’t make him blow his top. Apparently Shinra’s _other_ friend couldn’t be bothered to sit with him, had more _interesting_ things to do, the bastard. So Shizuo had gained a lunch buddy, albeit one he barely restrained himself from punching every time Shinra started gushing over Celty, his beloved - which was multiple times on any given day.

“So?” Shinra asked, eyes wide and hands clenched into anticipating fists.

“So what?” Shizuo replied, leaning back against the wall and opening his lunch container, mouth squeezed into a tight line.

“So, who is she? What did she have to say?!” The brown-haired boy’s giddiness might’ve been appropriate for a seven year old, but as a second year in high school someone having a crush on his friend shouldn’t have been a big deal. And it wouldn’t have been, if the friend weren’t _Shizuo._

The blonde sighed. “Haven’t opened it yet,” he admitted, busying his mouth with food.

Shinra craned his neck, glancing around as if someone might have followed them to the roof. “There’s no one up here!” He informed his friend, who rolled his eyes around another bite of food. “So you can open it now.”

Swallowing heavily, Shizuo glared at the other boy, while reluctantly reaching for his bag. He handed the envelope to Shinra to open so as not to rip what was inside, and the two angled their shoulders so they could both read the message written neatly inside.

“You think it’s for real?” Shizuo wondered, turning toward his friend. The message hadn’t exactly lit a fire in his heart or made him blush up to his ears, he wasn’t flustered nor flattered but rather something bordering on annoyed. His hair? That he had dyed to purposely get people to leave him alone? Had made a girl romantically interested in him?

Next to him, Shinra was squirming. “I wish Celty would write me this kind of message! You’re so lucky you know, this is so mysterious and romantic - just like Celty!”

Shizuo shoved Shinra in the shoulder, forcefully enough that he toppled over and just barely managed to catch himself before his face smashed against the concrete.

“Hey!”

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you think this is for real?”

Shinra stared toward the cloudless sky, the sun tinting off his glasses and making them appear opaque. “It’s hard to say, but I guess the question is, is there anyone who would be willing to risk your wrath by tricking you like that?”

“Guess not,” Shizuo huffed, shoving the card back into his bag. The two sat in silence for a minute, Shizuo closing his eyes and letting the light whistling of the wind and the chatter drifting upwards from down below fade slowly out. The blissful moment was of course broken by Shinra’s high pitched voice, grating Shizuo’s ears like nails on a chalkboard and causing the corners of his mouth to turn down into a scowl.

“If this goes well, you might very well have yourself a Valentine! I wonder what Celty would say if I asked her to be my Valentine. She’d probably say no but maybe if I planned out a romantic evening…”

With the careful practice only applicable to either of Shinra’s friends, Shizuo let the other ramble about his love without processing a syllable, letting his own mind wander back to the letter.

_Is it for real?_

_I can’t imagine someone liking me when there are plenty of other guys out there who don’t have inhuman strength and a temper shorter than a matchstick._

_She doesn’t even know anything about me, so how can she like me?_

_Even if she liked me, why would she confess in an anonymous note?_

_She said a series of notes._

_What’s going to be in the other ones?_

_I can’t imagine there’s much to say to me._

_Behind the hair and the anger and strength and violence I’m pretty normal._

_Why are my thoughts racing like this?_

_Shouldn’t my heart be racing, not my mind?_

_Why am I thinking about this so hard?_

 

And then, from the recesses from his mind, a mockery of his own voice hissed an answer to his question.

_It’s because no one has ever loved you, you know._


	3. Doubt and Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monster has family and friends, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short and sad, sorry! I promise the plot will pick up soon - this is just the exposition, aha.

There were benefits to being friends with the friend of a monster, Izaya mused to himself. And one who didn’t know how to keep information to himself, nonetheless. It had only been a matter of hours before Shinra was yelling “Orihara!” across the hallway, bumping into other students as often as he weaved between them in order to catch up to his friend as they headed to change their shoes. Izaya turned his head slightly in acknowledgement and raised his eyebrows before facing forward once more to continue walking, exhaling in silent laughter as Shinra apologized over the frustrated groan of yet another student.

“Did you hear?” Shinra gasped, bending forward in order to regain the wind he had lost in the short hallway distance; stamina and strength, or anything physical really, had never been his prowess.

Torn between flashing a knowing grin and keeping his face blank, Izaya hesitated between opting for the latter. “Hear what?”

Frowning as he reached in the cubby to grab his street shoes, Shinra blinked disbelievingly. “Did you really not? You always seem to know everything, even before it happens sometimes!” Despite being as nonjudgmental as ever, Shinra’s words has a dubious undertone that said he didn’t quite believe that his friend didn’t know what he was talking about.

Izaya shrugged his bony shoulders, his face still free of any hint of privy to what Shinra was talking about. “A lot happens every day you know. I couldn’t possibly know exactly what you mean without any context whatsoever.”

The grin spreading across Shinra’s face was one he only wore when he (thought that he) knew something Izaya didn’t. “Shizuo got confessed to this morning.”

 _Here it comes_. “Did he, now?” The question was boredom laced with amusement - it wouldn’t be out of character at all for Izaya not to care or to find the situation comical. After all, Izaya was interested in _humans_ , which Shizuo was _not._

“I heard there was a whole crowd around his desk this morning, and some of them were even thinking about opening the letter before he got there!”  
  
“Hm.” A low hum ringing with disinterest was Izaya’s only response. _The less I talk the more he will - that’s how it goes with Shinra._

“He opened it at lunch with me. The letter was kind of sappy - I think Shizuo was unimpressed. From someone named Kanra-chan… she seems to have a penchant for hearts and stickers and the like. If only Celty would give me something cute like that!”

Izaya rolled his eyes, reaching his arms up behind his head as they made their way towards the entrance. He was busy tuning out Shinra’s rambling when his ear snagged the tail end of a thought surprisingly _not_ about Celty.

“... Shizuo thought the confession might be fake, though, but I said no one in their right mind would risk him getting upset over a joke like that.”

_Well, no one ever said I was in my right mind._

As soon as they parted ways, Izaya’s bottom lip protruded into a thoughtful pout. Shizuo was skeptical… so the brute had brains after all. Still, it was to be expected really, the boy had never gotten a confession before so for someone to send him a note so close to Valentine’s Day… well, it did seem just a tad bit suspicious if you thought about it for more than a minute or two. Ideas swirled through Izaya’s head like a whirlwind the entire walk home. How to convince Shizuo, how to make him believe in Kanra, how to maybe make him even fall for her… how to get the most volatile reaction out of him. The obvious was to have the two interact in some way, but how?  Should Izaya pay off one of his girl classmates to pretend to be Kanra and approach Shizuo? It wasn’t as if anyone would take any amount of money Izaya had to trick that monster, though, and too much could go wrong if she slipped up. An actress maybe? While it would be easiest to use someone else and watch from the shadows, a pulling in his gut veered him away from that. There was less of a chance he’d see Shizuo’s responses first-hand, since the other boy could apparently tell if Izaya was in a five hundred meter radius of him. No, he needed a way to be able to witness how Shizuo reacted, not just for the grand finale but throughout the show. Izaya just needed to figure out how to snag a front row seat…

  

Bracing himself for the worst, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut, Shizuo deliberately opened the door as slowly and quietly as possible. He winced as the un-oiled hinges shrieked, and a voice called out immediately from the midst of the darkened house.

“Brother, is that you?”

Of course, it was too late to realize that attempting to sneak in was a far more suspicious and futile attempt at avoiding his brother than slamming the door and making a beeline for his bedroom. On any other day Shizuo would have simply walked in, nodded hello to Kasuka, chugged a milk or three from the fridge, and headed to his room to do homework on his plaid-cushioned window-seat until the sun set. Even if his brother hadn’t heard any rumors, Shizuo’s effort to be discreet was likely to alert Kasuka that something unroutine had occurred - the younger Heiwajima wasn’t stupid, after all. In fact, he was much more adept at judging character and situation, as well as mood, than the older was.

“Yeah, I uh, didn’t know if you were home yet.” A third year in middle school, Kasuka got out of school an hour before Shizuo did, and almost always came home immediately. While he could have been gregarious if he’d wanted to, Kasuka preferred to be more reserved, letting people seek him out rather than the other way around.

As he made his way into the house, the faint murmur of the television reached his ears. From the crashes and swearing he could pick out, it seemed his brother was watching some sort of action flick.

“Sorry. I should have turned the lights on.” A small smile crossed Shizuo’s face at Kasuka’s willingness to go along with the other’s hasty excuse.

Settling down cross-legged next to his brother in front of the TV, the two watched the remainder of the movie in silence, the glow of the screen flickering across their faces and glinting off of their eyes. It was an older film, something with car chases that Shizuo couldn’t really recount the details of even if you’d asked him immediately afterwards.

As the credits were rolling, Kasuka turned to Shizuo, question poised on his lips. Sure he knew what this was going to be about, the blonde braced himself for interrogation.

“Have you ever loved someone, Shizuo?” _Well, not exactly the question I was expecting, but then again he’s usually not completely direct about things._

“Well yeah, you and mom and dad.” _You know he knows you know that’s not what he meant._

“Hmm.”

“Have you?” It was a half-hearted attempt to direct the conversation away from himself, and not one Shizuo expected to be successful either. It was worth a try though, to prevent possible frustration or an argument.

“Our family, same as you.” _What did you expect? He’s only in middle school, after all._

Neither of them said anything for a moment, both staring at the letters flickering across the TV screen.

“But I probably will, someday. I’m just waiting for the right person.” Shizuo nodded, eyes dark and lips unmoving.

“You’ll find someone too.” Kasuka said it like a fact, like it was certain, like Shizuo _will_ find someone to love that loves him back just the same. There was no doubt in his voice; to him it was as true as the fact that cats were mammals. The smile Shizuo gave his younger brother, unlike Kasuka’s words, was filled with skepticism and lined with sadness. _Kasuka, no one could ever love me, you know._


	4. In Exchange For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sleepless few days, Izaya's plan advances as the second confession note arrives, offering Shizuo a chance to talk to Kanra in an attempt to ease his suspicion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a few days - here's chapter four! Last chapter was a lot of Shizuo, so this one is more insight into Izaya's thoughts.
> 
> Also! Kanra123 is an email address I made up, if it really belongs to someone please please PLEASE don't send them any emails! Seriously, please don't!

Izaya smirked as he hit “confirm” to verify his seventh email address, [ kanra123@yahoo.jp ](mailto:kanra123@yahoo.jp) . The idea had struck him like one of Shizuo’s signposts while he was crossing the border from delirious consciousness into blissful sleep. He had bolted upright, reached underneath his bed for the laptop he kept on at all times despite the manual’s warning against it, and got to work creating yet another online profile. “Kanra C.” or _kanra123_ from Ikebukuro had no personal information listed, no known friends, and no set avatar, with her backup email address being one Izaya used infrequently to post under an alias on a now inactive forum. For a moment he had considered using a proxy, but his computer’s firewall was fairly strong and he doubted Shizuo was clever enough to even _think_ of hacking his admirer, let alone actually executing it. On the off-chance he did, Izaya supposed that the mask would be lifted early, though his bets were against Shizuo reacting in that manner. Perhaps Shizuo would exceed his expectations for the first time, though, more than making up for Izaya’s lack of precautions.

Once again, he slept little that night, and idly wondered whether this was to become the routine for the next few weeks. Mairu and Kururi had always joked that he slept like a rock, often choosing to wake him by jumping on his stomach or hitting him with various household items. He, of course, retaliated by messing with their alarm clocks, although being late to elementary school was much less of a price to pay than having the wind knocked out of him as a means to be awakened, though his sisters had long since grown out of caring enough about him to participate in that habit.

The idle hum of his sleeping laptop lulled him in and out of consciousness, never slipping far enough into unconsciousness to be called sleep, and images played on the back of his eyelids, more so analytical daydreams than actual dreams. It was a game he liked to play, imagining various people’s reactions to various scenarios - anywhere from far-fetched to frighteningly realistic - until the sequences blurred with the abnormalities of dreams and he slipped into that world.

Tonight, no such blurring occurred, the visions dancing across his mind as clear as crystal retaining their sharp edges. Shizuo swung a telephone pole at Izaya, who dodged and laughed at the other boy, who was as angry as Izaya had ever seen him. Izaya walked into a coffee shop, noting the back of Shizuo’s blonde head before he could become aware of Izaya’s presence, smirking as Shizuo turned toward him and blinked slowly as if to confirm he wasn’t imagining things, Izaya laughing as he pulled out his phone and sent an email to Shizuo, preemptively sauntering out of the shop as the realization of just who exactly his secret admirer was dawned on the monster, and Shizuo’s phone was crushed to bits in his hand.

But first he needed to ensure Shizuo discarded his disbelief enough that the reveal of the scalding truth would generate the most violent reaction in Shizuo that anyone had ever seen. He had to ensure that after Shizuo lost it, _no one_ would doubt that the boy was a monster.

 

Three days had passed since Shizuo had opened the pink envelope. Three days of Shizuo grinding his teeth in frustration and suspense, three days of glaring daggers over his shoulder at anyone whispering within fifty meters of him, three days of arriving as early to class as possible in the likelihood he had received a follow-up confession (were he to arrive at his normal time hoards of students would be crowded around his desk, perhaps even opening the letter themselves). Three days of paranoia and dread, three days of crushing whatever object he was holding  every time a girl so much as looked his way, three days of a constant cycle of wondering who Kanra was and doubting she was real at all.

On the fourth day, Shizuo had let his guard down somewhat, and allowed himself to sleep in an extra five minutes before starting the walk to school. The moment he walked into the classroom, however, his stomach sunk. The five minutes had been five too many.

 

Lunch with Shinra had ensued wordlessly after Shizuo punched his friend in his bony shoulder after the other simply opened his mouth. The only words spoken that hour had been a high pitched exclamation of “my humerus!”

 

During Shizuo’s walk home after school, the boy could only have been described as ‘brooding.’ The envelope felt like it was a rock in his back, or perhaps a time bomb whose detonation hour was unknown.

 

During Izaya’s walk home after school, he received a phone call from Shinra, who recounted the silent lunch he had shared with Shizuo and how sore his humerus was. It was the lighthearted tone, the fact that he had called at all, and the subject matter that tipped Izaya off - Shinra knew how much the two loathed each other and was usually smart enough to avoid bringing the other up in a topic of conversation. The fact that he was willingly talking about Shizuo to Izaya, and about something so seemingly mundane nonetheless…

Well, it wasn’t likely that Shinra would alert his only other friend to the truth anyway. Despite his talkative nature, the boy was surprisingly tight-lipped, even going so far as to lie to the woman he loved about her missing head since he was a child in order to ensure her affections toward him wouldn’t be tainted. Unless the matter was likely to put Celty in danger, there was almost a one-hundred percent chance of Shinra watching bemusedly from the sidelines, his apathetic attitude towards even his sole friends ever present. Perhaps part of the reason Shinra and Izaya were actually able to be what passed for friends was that Shinra was predictable enough to not be worth manipulating, but the rare instances he acted uncharacteristically were enough to keep him from being completely boring, either.

He was certainly human, though, which was more than Izaya could say for Shizuo Heiwajima. Izaya had his theories about why Shinra was friends with the monster, most of them revolving around Shinra’s fascination bordering on obsession with those who were inhuman, but for the life of him Izaya could not figure out what possessed such a monster to befriend Shinra. From what Shinra had recounted, Shizuo got along well with Celty, so perhaps the blonde was using Shinra as a stepping stone to meet others of his kind. But, no, Shizu-chan wasn’t the type to be using others, as interesting a twist as that would be. It was more likely he was lonely, desperate for a friend, and Shinra was the only one who was willing to fill that slot. Izaya couldn’t blame Shizuo’s other classmates for being afraid of him - it was typical for humans to fear monsters, after all.

 

The fact that Shizuo hadn’t opened the next confession at lunch with Shinra or at school at all didn’t put a damper on Izaya’s mood in the least. He had purposefully waited until Friday to deliver the next letter, despite having the note written and envelope sealed with a rose stamp in the early hours of Tuesday. A few days of exhilarated impatience in exchange for a few days of Shizuo's suspicion and apprehension festering, of Izaya lying awake dreaming up where and when the big reveal would take place, all the conversations leading up to it, and all the injuries he would likely sustain in exchange for Shizuo lying awake tossing and turning, dreading when the next note would arrive, uncertain if it would arrive, flipping through half-formed images of the faces of girls he had barely noticed before, unease and anger creeping down his spine to his fingertips only to be stopped by hesitation and questions of who exactly his animosity should be directed at - it was more than worth it, in Izaya’s mind. So, even if he couldn’t second handedly witness Shizuo opening the letter from Kanra, the fact that he was too vexed to even react in front of Shinra was a enough of a reaction in it of itself to keep Izaya’s spirits high. As he skipped through his own front door and called to his sisters that their beloved older brother was home, he pictured Shizuo slamming his own door, settling down in a dark corner in a silent house and straining his eyes to read the words written with painstaking neatness on the card.

 

_Dearest Shizuo,_

_I know you might be thinking that this is a ruse, and a prank, that I’m toying with your heart. I do wish to remain anonymous, but I think if I was in your situation, I’d be skeptical too. I’ve never been confessed to either, and I will admit I perhaps don’t know you enough to support my claims of love. I’d like to change this, though. It has taken me a few days to come up with an idea that I hope will slowly erase your doubts as well as give me a chance to come into contact with the real you. Until the next note, you can contact me at_ [ _kanra123@yahoo.jp_ ](mailto:kanra123@yahoo.jp) _if you wish. I will be eagerly awaiting an email from you, Shizuo._

 

_Yours, Kanra_

  
_P.S. - Someone does love you, you know._


	5. Said the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faces and words float through Shizuo's mind - Izaya's and Kanra's in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD I AM SO FUCKING SORRY FOR GOING A MONTH WITHOUT UPDATING AND THE CHAPTER IS REALLY SHORT AND DEFINITELY NOT WORTH A MONTH'S WAIT. I am so, so sorry. I am not dead and this fic is not dead either, though, so there's that.

In fact, Izaya hadn’t been far off the mark - Shizuo had slammed the door and the house had been silent, but Shizuo much preferred to bask in the remaining daylight than isolate himself in the shadows. Snippets of the confession burning a hole in his backpack swept through his mind, one phrase in particular returning to the forefront of his thoughts over and over.

_“...to come into contact with the real you…”_

The wording ate away at him as he ate his own dinner, as he brushed his teeth - enough so that the toothbrush in his hand snapped under the weight of the heavy grip he didn’t know he was administering - and as he lay awake in his bed, something not quite searing enough to be frustration fizzled inside him and made the pillow under his head not quite cool enough. What exactly _was_ the real him? Was it the part of him that was most distinct - his inhuman strength - or was it the part of him that was shown to the fewest people, the part that that he often doubted the true existence of? It was right after losing control that his own kind and caring nature was hardest to see, through the red smoke of seething rage that made it seem as though Shizuo was solely violence personified, with no room for the gentleness he otherwise knew he had within him. After hurting someone, it seemed that was all he could do, all he was good for even. He wondered if Kanra had seen him in one of the one-sided episodes that others, perhaps incorrectly, labeled “fights.” Just last week he had thrown a parked car at a couple of first years who were trying, and not succeeding, in sneaking pictures of him with their cellphones. As much as it angered him, he knew what people saw him as - a monstrous spectacle. So was Kanra the same?

Was the real him a monster, or a human? If it was a monster, was it a monster anyone was capable of loving? Shizuo stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, turning to his other side on top of the sheets and flipping over the pillow, despite knowing that the back wouldn’t be any cooler. Finally, as the clock blinked 1 am, he made his way as quietly as he could toward the bathroom, running the tap until the water flowed cold and splashing some onto his face. Dimly reflected in the mirror was himself - hair slicked back to reveal shadows under his eyes that wouldn’t have gone away even had he turned the light on. The scowl of his mouth caught him off-guard - Shizuo hadn’t been aware that he was making such a displeased expression, and it disturbed him that he wasn’t quite sure when frowning had become the default for him.

It wasn’t often that he paused to objectively examine his face, but given the recent turn of events Shizuo found himself moving close enough to the mirror that his pupils began to enlarge as he stared at the darkness of his own eyes. Without a light source, they appeared as flat black circles, void and vast, his pupils blurring with the normal chocolate brown of his irises and the whites of his eyes shaded grey. His brow was set low and his jawline was particularly square, only adding to his aura of animosity, but Shizuo didn’t consider himself bad-looking. Not good-looking either - he wasn’t pretty, like some of his classmates, and his looks weren’t enough to draw in hordes of admirers - but not bad looking.

But… did Kanra find him attractive? _Dammit, again with Kanra. Can’t you stop thinking about them? For one second, can you stop thinking about goddamn Kanra and what they think about you? As if one person, who’s probably not even who they say they are, matters!_ But the answer was no, no he couldn’t stop thinking about the notes and the words printed neatly onto them and the legitimacy of it all. Images of his classmates and schoolmates floated by idly in his head, and were dismissed just as quickly as they appeared, thrown into the abyss of his mind. There wasn’t a single person who seemed to fit the criteria of Kanra - seemingly withdrawn, mysterious, and perceptive, as well as someone who might make an effort to be seen or be around Shizuo more than others. It was quite the opposite actually - many of the people at school, especially the girls, made an effort to _avoid_ him, not wanting to be caught in his wake. It led to peace a majority of the time - Shizuo only got into occasional fights this year and most of the time it was with transfer students or first years -  kids who didn’t know his reputation. At what cost did the peace come, was a question that skirted to the forefronts of his mind from time to time, only to be shoved away with as much mental strength as he had physical. Did not fighting, did being scared of, come at the cost of being seen as a monster - of having one friend outside of his younger brother? Did it come at the cost of connections, of bonds, of love perhaps? And wasn’t loving and being loved what it truly meant to be human? So then, was Shizuo a monster after all? Was he more or less human for trying not to fight?

It was always the same two faces that came to his brain at times of rapid overthinking like this - an angel and a devil one might say - if the angel were a morally corrupt pervert obsessed with dissection. The devil was just that, however - a devil, nothing more and nothing less. The glasses-clad angel spoke in his mind, words floating out of his mouth distortedly and hazy.

_Of course you’re a human, Shizuo - you have all the functioning parts of a human, and they function particularly well! A brain, a heart, a liver, two eyes, two kidneys, two arms - you’ve got them all! If you really want to be sure, though, I could always take a look inside -_

_  
_ And then the devil cut him off.

_No matter what you find inside, he’s a monster. Have you seen the way he can rip a goal post out of the field and toss it like a paperweight? Did you see when he got hit by a truck and lived? As far as I’m concerned, that’s not human, no matter what his organs might say - organs that can survive something like that belong to a monster. He growls and grunts all the time, barely an eligible word comes out of that mouth of his, just like a brute beast. His temper is shorter than a matchstick , and he’d probably survive being lit on fire too. How fun would that be, Shizu-chan? Maybe if I get you angry enough you really will combust. Then the world would be rid of a monster like you once and for all. No one would even miss you, who is there to? Your only friend doesn’t even love you, you know._


	6. Two Can Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exchange of emails accelerates Izaya's plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10k words, hooray!! I hope that ten days wasn't too long to wait, at least it wasn't a month this time haha.

It was three-thirty in the morning when Izaya heard an unfamiliar _ding_ chime from his phone, though he recognized it as the custom alert he had set for his newest email address immediately. Izaya had drank a large cup of black coffee shortly after what passed as dinner (cup noodles and a bag of chips), anticipating that it would likely be very late before Shizuo gave up on tossing and turning in sleeplessness and powered up his cell. A smug grin flickered across his face as he listened to the alert repeat itself, and Izaya closed his eyes and fell backwards onto the mattress, letting the pillows behind him cushion his fall. He was savoring this, this _win,_  this _progress._ Izaya figured the email will be short, most likely curt and dismissive and doubtful - it was to be expected, it was how anyone would react. Despite Shizuo being a monster, Izaya thought, he reacted very much like a human. That was what made him so fun - his limits were inhuman, yet his responses were very much that of a normal person. But he did have limits, and Izaya was determined to stretch them as far as they might go.

There was an almost imperceptible _click_ as Izaya flicked open his phone, silencing the notification halfway. Bright red breached the otherwise simple tidiness of the screen, but soon disappeared as Izaya opened his account.  Sure enough, a message from sheiwajima sat alone and unread at the top of his inbox, an island in the midst of white nothingness. Izaya inhaled before opening the email, eyes darting across the screen as he read.

_Kanra,_

_I really don’t know what to make of your letters, other than I’ve been up all night thinking about them. Not in a romantic way. It’s more like you said. I’m skeptical. I guess I’ll try and show you the real me. I don’t really know how through email, it’s not something I use a lot. But I didn’t rewrite this as many times as I wanted to so that’s a start I guess. Uh, I don’t know anything about you so it’s kind of hard to make a conversation. What are you like?_

_Shizuo_

 

Though short, Izaya read the letter through one, twice, thrice-- grin spreading wider across his face with every time. The short, choppy, awkward sentences, the hesitation and reluctance, the not-too-polite courtesy that Izaya could still hear the rough growl of Shizuo’s voice behind-- they were all so laughably _Shizuo_ that he had to swallow against a chuckle creeping up his throat as to not wake his sisters. Not that he’d care if he did, but the consequence of having to deal a grumpy Kururi and Mairu in the morning was far worse than indulging in ceremonial laughter. Not only had Shizuo replied, but the brute had enclosed far more information than Izaya could have ever hoped for. _“I’ve been all night thinking about them.”_ There was something almost intimately pleasing about the meaning behind those words, of the honesty carried within them. So he _had_ managed to get to Shizuo, even with this little amount of work. Oh, how Izaya couldn’t wait to see where things went as they got trickier. Or perhaps they wouldn’t-- this was Shizuo, after all, and the blond had never been the sharpest tool in the box. More of a blunt saw, actually, Izaya thought, considering the fact that blunt weapons were able to do more damage. Izaya wasn’t upset about this realization, though-- his switchblade could cut the saw juuuuust fine. Though, it didn’t seem like he even needed it this time.

It was a small sacrifice to make, ditching the first half of the school day in order to ensure he could send the reply at precisely the right moment. Of course, he wasn’t sitting anywhere near Shizuo and Shinra’s usual rooftop perch, considering the former’s uncanny ability to _smell_ when Izaya was nearby, like a _mutt._ And there was nothing Izaya hated more than dogs aside Shizuo Heiwajima, though it seemed fitting that they were so similar one could hardly tell the difference, really.  He swung his legs lazily through the open air from the height of the tree branch he was sitting on as his finger hovered over _send._ Anticipation reverberated down his spine, it was if he could feel the message transmit over the airwaves, hear the vibration of his enemy’s phone against his uniform slacks, see the scowl across his face as he fished his phone out, eyes widening as he glanced at the notification. Shinra was probably leaning intrusively across Shizuo’s shoulder, the latter turning his broad shoulders as a shield against his phone screen, biting his lip as he debated opening the message or not, curiosity getting the better of him (though not like a cat, he didn’t deserve to be compared to one of those sublime creatures) as he thumbed through to his inbox and opened the pending email with the subject simply set as re:, for Shizuo hadn’t filled in that particular box when he had first contacted ‘Kanra.’

_Shizuo,_

_You can’t believe how thrilled I am that you replied! I’m sorry if the letters have been stressing you out, that wasn’t my intention, though I admit that it does make my heart flutter a bit that you were thinking of me at all. I’m not too used to using email either, to be honest! But I thought this might be the best way for us to communicate. But if you’d like to know about me, that’s definitely a place to start! Um, I’m not sure what I should say… I’m not a very interesting person! In fact, I only have one friend… most people think I’m a bit peculiar I think. That’s okay though, it doesn’t bother me. I actually really like watching everyone else with their own friends, it makes me happy. Besides that, I’m not sure I have much else to say! Sorry for the late reply, I slept in and had to rush to class. I hope to hear back!_

_Kanra_

 

It wasn’t entirely a lie, and it wasn’t entirely the truth-- just the way Izaya liked things-- enough burning honesty to warp the plastic of the lies into misshapen unrecognizability without ruining the original substance. Besides, it wasn’t any fun to play a game with the other person blindfolded, especially Shizuo. He had to give the other some advantage, or else there would be no chance to counter, to see through Izaya’s own strategies. An opponent having even the slightest bit of insight against you made things much more interesting and exciting, and so Izaya had made sure that the vague information he shared about ‘Kanra’ applied to him as well in some sense, disregarding the last bit about waking up late. Though, it wasn’t as if Shizuo cared to know enough about Izaya the way Izaya cared to know things about him (it was incredibly useful to have information stockpiled concerning your worst enemy) and so he was betting heavily for Shizuo being completely blindsided by the eventual revelation, even with the details pertaining to himself Izaya was planning to expose. This was also another benefit of the whole ordeal-- if Shizuo opened up, it would be a victory even greater than his downfall. Even if Izaya’s plan was unsuccessful, what he would glean by exchanging emails as Kanra was infallible, priceless in terms of what he could use to hasten the other’s demise. What that could look like, Izaya could only imagine, though he was determined to conjure as great of a spectacle as possible.

Oh, what a show it would be-- a fight perhaps, a fight to the death, with taunts and blows exchanged between the flash of silver, the red of blood, the purple of bruises. A vending machine here, a flick of a knife there, with crowds of people watching, Shinra and Celty included of course, but Izaya and Shizuo’s movements would be too fast, to calculated for anyone to intervene. It would be a dance of the most intimate sort, with Shizuo leading and Izaya following-- stepping together, bodies flushed, hands and legs fluid and graceful, sweat beading and breaths heavy-- until the very end, where as Shizuo dipped Izaya low to the ground, he would reach for his knife, and pierce the other’s heart, slipping into the shadows of the stage as the audience roared in a standing ovation. The final performance of Shizuo Heiwajima would prove to everyone that he was a monster, a stain on society whose existence would be greatly unmissed.

_Oh Shizuo. A world full of humans would never love a monster like you, you know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part I realize is a bit confusing-- it IS Izaya stabbing Shizuo, not vice versa. I thought the language would convey that but I'm worried it might not very well, so I just thought I'd clarify!


	7. Get A Grip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanra replies during lunch, Shinra obsesses over Celty, and Shizuo isn't able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 is finally here! Sorry for the delay, again. Updates are so sporadic, I'm sorry.

“Hey, hey, Shizuo-- Shizuo!!” Spindly fingers pried at his own larger, thicker ones, in a futile attempt to break the grasp he had on his phone that was seconds away from crushing the device. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip, fingers uncurling to relieve the pressure. In his moment of distraction, Shinra had leaned over in front of Shizuo, trying to read the pixels on the screen, and Shizuo shouldered him away; if Shinra wanted to read it that badly, it couldn’t be a good thing.

So, Kanra had replied. The early hours of the morning had been spent in anxious anticipation of what they might say, and had garnered just as little sleep as the late hours of the evening. It was unrealistic to expect that they would be awake, he knew-- despite their claims of love, it wasn’t likely that they were the type of person to be awake at three a.m. obsessing and fantasizing over him. At least, he hoped not. And it wasn’t likely that a message would appear in his inbox during school, either, which was why Shizuo had slept through his morning studies with little attempt to right his head from the drooped position it was intent upon staying in. He had been half right: a chime hadn’t sounded to herald a new email during class, but halfway through lunch the sound had caught him off guard, causing him to drop his bite of food onto the concrete in front of him. Shinra hadn’t even flinched, only moving so much as to raise an eyebrow at the blond and continue chewing.

It wasn’t the content of the email that had him riled up, but rather the _lack_ of content-- he knew they were trying to be discreet and enigmatic, but wasn’t mutual disclosure the entire point of communicating in this fashion? The overly cheerful tone was the only thing that stood out; it hadn’t passed Shizuo by that Kanra was growing less and less formal and poetic with each message. Were they slowly breaking free of their bonds of shyness? Or was it that they weren’t shy at all, and were slowly dropping their facade? It was impossible to tell over paper, or a screen, rather. Peculiar with only one friend… that could be used as a descriptor for Shizuo himself, perhaps by someone who was intent on sugarcoating things, for ‘peculiar’ wasn’t exactly what most people called him. ‘Freak,’ ‘inhuman,’ ‘monster,’ sure, but peculiar was more of an euphemism than an accuracy, to say the least. It could apply to Shinra too-- wait, no. That wasn’t quite right. The medical guru did have one other friend, a cockroach that wouldn’t go down no matter how hard you hit him. A flea, an insect, a pest, a piece of useless garbage. Unconsciously, Shizuo’s hand closed around his phone harshly once more, as if he were squeezing the life out of it, imagining to be Izaya’s neck.

But, in fact, the sound of  plastic cracking and giving way beneath his hands was not of bones breaking, tendons snapping. A sharp inhale sounded from Shinra, who moved to pry Shizuo’s hands away once more, only to find they were already releasing the phone. Shizuo blinked hard, snapping himself out of his near rage, and looked down at the object in his hands. Luckily, only the case was cracked, and the screen and vital organs seemed to be unharmed and remained functioning. Shinra's gaze ricocheting between Shizuo's hands to his scowl was one of perplexion, and with a sigh, Shizuo passed the partially damaged phone over to his friend.

“She sounds like a real wallflower,” he commented as he dubiously studied the email. “Are you sure you want to go with someone like that? Hm… if you read it a different way, though, she kind of sounds mysterious! Like Celty! And just one friend, like Celty! Although I wish to be more than her friend… wait, do you think Celty wrote this? Is she pining after you Shizuo?” As he spoke Shinra grew more and more frantic, hysteria edging into his words like a parasite into its host. At the very least, the other’s paranoia was a distraction from his own thoughts, temporarily.

“Shut up, Shinra. I’m sure it’s not Celty. Besides, she’s my friend too.” Shinra’s reaction was not what he hoped-- instead of brightening into his usual cheerful smile he began emitting a strange moaning noise, as if he had become a zombie. Clenching his fist, Shizuo sighed. Why did he always have to say the wrong thing?

“Look, what I mean is this can’t be Celty. She has more than one friend. And besides, she only has eyes for you, obviously. Now, I told you to shut up. Quit moaning already.”

A brown-haired head rose from it’s sullen position hunched over a lunchbox, turning to look Shizuo in the eye. Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, Shizuo could read everything in his friend’s facial expressions even without being an expert, or really any good at telling what people were thinking. He relied largely on words unless the person happened to be terrible expressive-- which was perhaps one of the reasons he could at least tolerate the other.

“You really think so?” Shinra adjusted his glasses, putting on a serious expression. “Well, then back to the email. This girl obviously only has eyes for you, too! I wonder if we can figure out who she is. Someone shy and reserved, not tech-savvy, but has a phone if she sent the email right as lunch break started.” Shizuo was impressed by Shinra’s deductive skills. His friend was obviously extremely intelligent (though perhaps not socially), but it never failed to ring a reaction out of the blond when the other stopped wailing over his headless love for a second and put on a business face. In times like these, he really could see him being a doctor rather than simply a love-crazed stay-at-home husband.

“Well, yeah, I guess so.” Shizuo scratched at his hair, fingering a thick lock idly. “But I dunno, I haven’t really paid enough attention to the girls to know who fits that description.” A defeated sigh escaped Shinra’s mouth, and Shizuo knew that he hadn’t noticed anyone who matched that criteria either-- he only had eyes for Celty, after all.

Suddenly, though, his eyes ignited; it was as if someone had struck a match to the dark gasoline of his irises. “I know! I know, I know someone who would know! We could always ask Orihara-” A punch in the face ended his sentence before he could exclaim “-san,” and the rest of lunch was spent with Shinra holding an ice pack to the growing bruise on his cheek.

 

* * *

 

 _Kanra,_ _  
_ _Thanks for replying. It took me a while to think of what I was going to say. I guess I think better at night, but that might be because I haven’t slept much recently. But that’s beside the point, I doubt you’re interested in my sleep schedule. What sorts of things are you interested in? I can’t really make conversations well and I’ve never tried to online, but I need some place to start. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I really didn’t even want to reply at all. It’s late. I’m not always known for making the best decisions, but I guess you know that if you know who I am even at all. I’m rambling, so I’ll close this off. Bye for now._  
_Shizuo_

 

He wondered if it was really a good idea. To be talking to this stranger. To be communicating with someone who was hiding behind a screen, who probably was some sort of crazy stalker. It wasn’t the danger that bothered him, exactly; he knew he was more than capable of dealing with the situation physically if it ever got to the point. What really bothered Shizuo was the fact that someone was asking for information on him, and he was willingly giving it without knowing if the conversation was true on both sides, or only his. It was like talking to a brick wall-- if a brick wall was capable of typing, and possibly lying while doing so. And it wasn’t like talking to someone quiet, either-- he was used to that with Kasuka, and emailing this Kanra was so very different.

“Message sent” flashed across his screen, and he checked the clock for the third time in two minutes. It read 01:25, just about an hour and a half after midnight. Most students would be sleeping, those still awake falling into the category of overly studious and grade obsessed. The kids who whined about getting anything less than a perfect score, the kids whose hands shot up into the air as if on a timer every time the teacher asked a question. Was Kanra one of those kids? Somehow, he couldn’t imagine that being the case. But hell, what did he know? And wasn’t there anything else to think about besides this ridiculous, resultless, back-and-forth?

It turned out there was something else to think about, something even less pleasant than obsessively turning over the emails and letters from his unknown admirer in his head, searching desperately for anything he might have missed, over-analyzing the words until he questioned the meaning of every one and the echoes of the letters combined together in his head to sound like nothing more than gibberish. There was so many unknowns, so many questions. Who was Kanra? Did they really like him? Were they mocking him? Were they even a girl at school? What if they did like him, but were a stalker? Everything seemed to be able to be answered if he could only find the identity of the sender. “ _I know! I know, I know someone who would know!”_ Shizuo buried his face into the pillow, biting down hard enough he felt the down of feathers tickle his tongue. No way in hell he would go to _that_. It wasn’t so important he knew Kanra’s identity anyway. No matter what, he’d stay on guard, stay it out until the second he confirmed his suspicions of the crush being fabricated. It wasn’t like he cared. Sure, being liked might be nice, but the chances of that happening were much more minuscule than that of being deceived. After all, he couldn’t argue with the faint whisper in his mind that echoed _anyone who says they love you is only pretending, you know._


	8. Allowed To Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After thinking of Shizuo in class, Izaya's sisters have some interesting words of wisdom to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I'm so sorry for the wait, writer's block is a pain in the ASS. But here is chapter 8 and it is extra long to make up for the time <3

Rather than pay attention to the afternoon lecture, Izaya tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk in front of him, just loud enough so those around him attempting to focus shot him sidelong glances teeming with irritability every so often, yet the noise escaped the teacher’s discernment. He was far too exhilarated to focus, brain buzzing like the engine of an airplane above the foggy layer of clouds that was the lesson. The high hadn’t stagnated since he had awoken from a light, dreamless sleep at the beckoning of the vibration of his phone, not fazed in the least by the interruption to his rest. Instead, delight had danced through his veins at the prospect of the content, its pace only quickening upon reviewal and the discovery he was not alone in his insomnia, though likely induced by mindsets differing largely apart from the factor of the situation-- Shizuo’s by apprehension and Izaya’s in anticipation; only the former’s of the anxious sort. Though, the more Izaya had mulled over the idea of the driving forces behind their sleeplessness, the more similarities he found-- the more the grin on his face had slipped into the pull of a frown. Recklessness could be seen in each exchange thus far-- in Izaya’s truthfulness, no matter how scant, and in Shizuo’s responding openness. And through Shizuo’s self-deprecating phrases glinted the barest flicker of manipulation-- not of the malevolent kind that Izaya’s words so often reeked of like cheap perfume-- but of the kind that sought reassurance for his mindset that the crush wasn’t authentic.

Izaya had been aware of Shizuo’s deep-set self hatred of course, the taunts of “monster” and provocation of his uncontrollable temper whether through attacks from himself or those easily manipulable for their cravings for violence were meant to capitalize upon that. It was the reason behind the entire Kanra scheme, why he had chosen to pose as a love-stricken student in hopes of building up the wall of Shizuo’s confidence only to watch it crumble down with the strike of Izaya’s sledgehammer. Not a brick had been added yet, but once the construction started, it would only be upwards until the very end. Yet, as he had reread the email, something regarding the hopeless exhaustion of the other’s phrasing didn’t sit quite right in Izaya’s stomach, unsettled him, though it was barely noticeable, imperceptible enough he was able to push it away to the depths of his body and brain without much effort at all. Instead, he chose to focus on the continuing demand for Kanra to reveal more about themselves, of the desperation to solve the mystery of their identity in order to confirm that, in actuality, they were a reckless student pulling a reckless prank in order to tease the most destructive person at Raijin. And whether it was Shizuo who confronted him or he who confronted Shizuo, whether Shizuo exceeded his predictions or affirmed them, satisfaction would flood through his veins.

As the teacher droned on, he contemplated his response to Shizuo’s persistent interest in his-- or rather Kanra’s-- hobbies. Izaya had already disclosed Kanra was a loner who preferred to watch interactions than partake in them, and a repetition of the answer would only seem suspicious, either leading Shizuo to speculate Kanra was Izaya or to disregard their emails as brimming with dishonesty. Though, it wasn’t as if observing people was Izaya’s only passion, though it was his main. There were plenty of other things Kanra could like to do-- surf the internet, eat fatty tuna, watch children’s television shows, or study foreign languages. None would be a dead giveaway to Kanra’s identity-- Izaya was fairly certain that besides his food preferences, which Shinra was most likely aware of, the rest were either unknown in applying to him or common enough that there would be no immediate connection. If he was feeling particularly daring, he might include the bit about tuna-- after all, he was determined to match Shizuo’s own recklessness of being so very openhearted, or even responding in the first place, as he claimed he had misgivings against doing. Who was Izaya Orihara to be outdone by a monster such as Shizuo Heiwajima?

 

Waltzing into the living room after class, Izaya was greeted by the sight of his twin sisters Mairu and Kururi coloring on the floor. Upon first glance, it was nothing conspicious, but upon closer examination the paper they were using was, in fact, the heart-bordered stationery Izaya had purchased for his original means of communication with Shizuo. Upon hearing his footsteps in the doorway, the two girls looked up.  Kururi's face was as expressionless as always-- however, Mairu was grinning mischievously, a twinkle in her eye that made Izaya lower his shoulders and raise an eyebrow.

“What are you two up to?”

“Drawing,” Kururi replied, pausing her scribblings and lifting the red colored pencil she was using to do them.

“We were out of paper so we went in your room and found this,” Mairu added helpfully, gesturing toward her own piece of stationery, now covered in what Izaya assumed was a picture of her and her twin holding hands. Perhaps under different circumstances it would have been endearing, but Izaya’s forte was not dealing with -- or appreciating-- children and their affections or antics. Antics such as _trespassing in his room_ and _taking his things._ It wasn’t what the twins had taken that aggravated him-- with the development of exchanging letters with Shizuo via email, he had no longer possessed a need for the paper-- but the case they clearly felt they had jurisdiction over their older brother’s bedroom, despite one of Izaya’s only rules over the two being not to enter it. Thankfully, the room was relatively neat-- all clothes folded and put in their proper drawers, and  nothing in or out of sight that could harm or traumatize a seven-year-old. In fact, Izaya’s room, was, for the most part stripped of any telltale glimpses into the personality or mind of its inhabitant. Much of that information, however, could be found by examining his laptop files, or history that wasn’t worth clearing. Discretion, even in his own home, was something Izaya strived for; even his clothing was simple and nondescript-- when he wasn’t wearing his uniform, he preferred to don simple grey or black shirts and pants. Not that he particularly cared about fashion either way

Izaya sighed internally, his outward composure remaining collected, his raised eyebrow demonstrating a hint of amusement, along with his tone. “What made you think I had paper in my room?”

Mairu shrugged, attention drifting back to her work. “‘Dunno, but you did. Who knows what you have in there?” She pursed her lips thoughtfully, her next comment an afterthought. “Nothing interesting, though, besides this. What kind of teenage guy _are_ you?”

The implications of her words made the corners of Izaya’s mouth curve into a smirk, and a gleam shine in his eyes. “Probably not the kind you were hoping I was.”

“You only have one friend, and spent all your time on the computer stalking people! I’d say that’s pretty weird, Iza-nii.” Kururi nodded solemnly in response to Mairu's exclamation, and Izaya’s lips tightened into a terse line.

“I’m perfectly aware--” he began, lopping off the end of his sentence as the ever gregarious of the pair opened her mouth to continue.

“But maybe you’re getting more normal. There’s hope yet, Iza-nii!” Her eyes brightened, and she grinned at her older brother, revealing a missing front tooth Izaya hadn’t been aware she’d lost. Briefly, he allowed himself to wonder when it had happened, and whether she was alright, but it was soon dismissed with the notion that they were old enough to take care of themselves, especially over something as trivial as a lost tooth.

“And what makes you think I’m becoming closer to your definition of normal?” Izaya’s eyebrow raised once more, as did the corner of his mouth, his presentation of amusement returning with genuineness.

“Love.” At first he wasn’t sure he had heard his sister right, quiet as she was, but after blinking dumbfoundedly in the wake of Kururi's unwavering gaze, her twin, noticing Izaya’s momentarily shaken composure, hastened to explain.

“You have paper with hearts all over it, and the package was open with a few sheets missing, plus you had all these fancy pens and stamps near it and we figured--”

Kururi finished. “You’re in love.”

So struck by his sister’s romanticized-- yet not illogical-- explanation, it took Izaya seconds longer than it should have to regain control of himself and react in fashion. The hesitation between the word “love” and his barking laughter was uncharacteristic, though was brief enough to surely go unnoticed by someone not so acutely aware of such reactions, like himself.

“Me, in love? You’ve got to be kidding.” As he continued to choke on his own half-forced laughter, his mind reeled to think of an explanation for the missing stationary. “I gave some to Shinra, is all. You know how I’m such a good friend.” Too late, he realized how his sisters would perceive his words, and predictably Mairu spoke up before he could backtrack.

“You’re in love with Shinra?” Her eyes had widened into circles, pupils blown out of proportion at the apparently exciting prospect of her brother being in love with his only, _male_ , friend. Kururi appeared enraptured as well, head cocked attentively.

The noise that emitted from Izaya’s throat, of frustration and annoyance, was guttural-sounding, twisting itself into a strained laugh partway through as though it couldn’t decide quite what emotion it was supposed to express. “No, I am most certainly _not_ in love with Shinra. As if anyone would love that maniac.” The bitter irony of his words burned his throat as they were said, but he kept talking as though more lies could ease the sensation. “I just gave him some paper so _he_ could write a note to who _he_ loves, is all. Not that it’s likely to be reciprocated.” The chuckle he produced, though lacking the tell of its predecessor, left him feeling parched, and Izaya swallowed down the cough he so desperately wanted to release.

Twin frowns appeared, and Izaya was preparing to spin on his heel and leave the girls to their projects when Kururi spoke up, her sentence quadruple its average length and twice its average volume.

“Iza-nii, you’re allowed to love someone, you know.”

Hitching a breath, the smile that plastered itself on his face and the chuckle that sounded from his throat appeared and sounded so natural that it was easy for anyone, including Izaya himself, to believe that they were. “Don’t be ridiculous-- I love everyone, all of humanity! That’s more than just someone. Now, continue your coloring, I have homework to do.” Izaya turned and began his way upstairs before he could see the pitying skepticism in his sister’s eyes.

 

Insomnia welcomed Izaya like the old friend it was that night. The return email to Shizuo, sent long ago in the early hours of the evening, barely scraped the edges of his mind, and no alert sounded that night that might otherwise return the topic to the forefront. It was Kururi's words that circled in his brain like a vulture awaiting the deceasement of its prey, Kururi's words that looped in his head like an obnoxious pop song. He knew, he knew deeper in his heart than he preferred to excavate, that by “someone” she hadn’t meant all humans, and by “love” she hadn’t meant the objective, distorted definition he abided by. The echo kept him awake like a haunting refrain; the more he tried to ignore it the louder it became. Eventually, he buried his face underneath his pillow, squeezing the fabric against his ears, but rather than freeing him from the noise it only smothered his breathing until his pants began to harmonize with the words. “ _You’re allowed to love someone, you know.”_


	9. Coffee's For Closers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Kanra on his mind, Shizuo goes out for coffee-- only to run into Kanra himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they finally interact! I hope this pace change was refreshing, it's beginning to pick up!!

Shizuo hadn’t realized he was mentally compiling an ever-growing list of Kanra’s interests and disinterests, likes and dislikes, until, in the line of a coffee shop, he found himself the subject of multiple staring sets of eyes as he placed his order. _After_ he placed his order would perhaps be more accurate, for he had ordered himself a latte with extra sugar and as the cashier anxiously awaited his payment he found himself eyeing the menu, musing over what his correspondent would enjoy-- most likely a plain, black coffee with a double (or triple) shot of espresso. After all, Kanra preferred bitter foods, had an aversion to dairy and sweets, and often relied on less than four hours of sleep. It was then, in line, face unlined with the the faintest trace of a grin, shoulders lowered in relaxation, oblivious for the shortest of seconds to the shifting glances and hushed murmurs, that he realized several things, the first of which being the persistent onlooks of other customers waiting for their drinks or turn to order and the pale face of the cashier. Mumbling apologies, he paid, head inclined downward and eyes focused on the floor while he awaited the call of his name.

The second realization came unbidden and burned his mind as he took a sip of his just-made drink far too quickly in attempted casualness and subjected his tongue to the same fate. When, exactly, had Shizuo committed Kanra’s preferences to memory? When, exactly, had his brain begun to be preoccupied, as hesitant and loathe as he was to admit the fact, with reminders of the other? And when, exactly, had those reminders become a source of comfort rather than distress? There were other questions too, ones it took considerably more effort to shove away than to wrench a sign from its concrete roots. Questions that, were Shizuo to mull over too long, might find an answer to. Questions such as when, exactly, he had begun to believe Kanra's words-- if not in regards to their crush, then at least in regards to their tastes? When he had begun to _trust_  his mysterious admirer?  
  
It had been thirteen days since the first letter, nine since the first of the emails that were gradually increasing in all manners of length, depth, and frequency. When, in those thirteen days, had the aversion toward contacting-- and then replying to-- the other morphed into more time and effort expelled into his messages to Kanra than his essays for school? Phrases void of context strayed through Shizuo’s mind as he walked the near-empty streets of Ikebukuro, the normally lively pedestrians crowded in the warmth of nearby shops and restaurants instead.

Kanra,

do you have any siblings?

he prefers cats, like you do

he’s the only one who’s not afraid of me

the only sane one, anyway

 

Shizuo,

are you saying I’m insane?  


 

I wasn’t. Why would you think that?

 

I’m not afraid of you, either.

 

The closing words to Kanra’s last email had sent chills down his spine upon first read, chills that couldn’t be blamed on the frigid weather that had hardly ever affected Shizuo in the first place. He had sat there, eyes unseeing yet trained on the black text the screen of his phone showed, unable to untangle the knot the words formed in his stomach. Moonlight had shone through his window then, and when the clouded sunrise came hours later and he had made no progress in separating his emotions, Shizuo had left a note for his sleeping mother and father and brother that he had gone for a coffee run, emitting the fact that it was in hopes the caffeine would compensate for his insomnia and defog his brain, enabling him to sort out his thoughts.

Wintertime was, characteristically, a more peaceful time of the year for Shizuo. Shizuo was able to enjoy hot cocoa and oven-warm brownies, exams had come and gone, and attacks by gangs were less frequent due to the holidays and temperatures, making it an altogether pleasant time of year. The cold crisp of the air coupled with the heat of his coffee was beginning to clear his head,  to unwind his emotions, when they suddenly twisted even tighter together than before. He felt the hairs on his arms begin to stand up underneath the warmth of his jacket, uncaused by the cold, and his fingers tightened against the coffee cup until he felt scalding liquid spill over his hand and heard it splash against the cement of the sidewalk. Both in pain and fury, he let the cup loose of his grip, crushing it underfoot as he glanced around to find the source of his rage, eyes near immediately landing on a figure that could have passed for a lean, jagged shadow were it not for the dull grey of the sky absorbing the sun’s light and its absence.

Footfalls otherwise heavy against the pavement were made to slosh with every step of coffee-soaked shoes, though despite--or perhaps for-- the fine-tuned hearing Izaya possessed, the other didn’t acknowledge Shizuo’s presence. Pace quickening in frustration for lack of verbal or physical addressment, Shizuo reduced the distance between them to meters in a matter of seconds, and it was only when the nauseatingly intoxicating scent of Izaya’s shampoo hit his nostrils and he was able to make out the individual fibers of his fur-lined jacket that the other turned around, tilting his chin upwards to discredit their height difference with eye contact. Izaya’s face was, as always, marred by his leering trademark grin, and despite his lack of movement the blaze in his eyes flickered with new-lit intensity. The jacket seemed new, and the drop of the fabric along Izaya’s hips made him appear older somehow, more threatening than a second-year schoolboy in uniform. Anonymity had made itself Izaya’s friend in his discardment of his Raijin clothes; now there was no telling signs of his age or occupation-- he could be anyone at all in the jacket, and anything could be hidden in its lining or behind its cover.

Shizuo’s frown dangled precariously off his face as he studied his schoolmate, whose words spoke at having noticed where the blond’s gaze lay.

“Like it, Shizu-chan?” He had put his hands in the pockets, spreading the coat out as if he were a young girl in a new dress. “My parents bought it for me for Christmas-- but of course, they don’t know that yet.”  
  
‘The fuck does that mean?” Shizuo growled over Izaya’s sharp, self-perpetuated laughter. “You stole their money, didn’t you! You’re an awful disgrace of a son.” The heat in Izaya’s eyes had spread to Shizuo’s veins, igniting each and every last blood vessel in his body until he had a choice-- move, or be consumed. His body made the decision for him, lunging toward and reaching for the yellow pedestrian crossing sign that he would have bet his money Izaya had chosen to stand by purposefully-- Shizuo wouldn’t put it past the other on any day of the week to appear at any given location Shizuo was at during any given time _knowingly._ Of course, of course that’s what he had done, of course that was why he was here, of course--  
  
Twisted metal squeaked in protest as it was wrenched out of its concrete roots, and Shizuo hefted his newly-made weapon upward, prepared to swing towards Izaya, who continued to stand idly on the sidewalk, smirk cutting into the edge of his cheekbone blade-on-blade.

Shizuo didn’t note that Izaya’s hand had slipped into his coat pocket until it was lifted back out, until after he spoke. “They also got me this,” Izaya’s tone was boastful, his tongue as quick as his legs as he sprinted towards Shizuo, metal glinting dully in his hand with the absence of sunlight. Shizuo sidestepped and swung, but the other was faster. However, the sting of skin breaking across his knuckles and the hot of blood spilling across them only made him hiss in response to the other’s laugher as sharp as the weapon that had just cut him. Once more he maneuvered the sign in an attempt to make bruising contact with Izaya, to knock him off his feet, ignoring the blood trickling down his right hand, only for the other to leap over the sweep of the sign and take off down the nearly deserted street.

It was different in winter, without the thick of the crowd for Izaya to hide in, without the stares of spectators used and unused to the spectacle of Shizuo Heiwajima alike. Ikebukuro was their own chess board; it had been cleared of every rook, pawn, and bishop-- even the kings-- and the black and white queens were left chasing each other without end, unsure of what exactly each of them were protecting any longer but unknowing any other way to coexist. Unknowing anything other than Izaya leading Shizuo down sidestreets and alleyways, luring him close with purposefully decreased speed and taunts, taunts of “I wonder how many car accidents you’ve caused with all the signs you take, Shizu-chan” and “I bet you’ve killed some poor child’s mother” and “careful, Shizu-chan, your blood might be carrying some awful disease that turns everyone that touches it into a monster like you” and puncturing, piercing laughter in response to Shizuo’s “fuck you”s and “shut the fuck up”s and “i’ll kill you”s and low, rumbling sounds of loathing expelled as if from Shizuo’s heart rather than his throat. Luring him closer in order to slash at Shizuo’s hand or his shoulder or his arm or his side depending on vantage point and location, depending on whether Izaya was on the dumpster or it was being thrown at him. Nine out of ten times the slice of the blade didn’t draw blood, but for the few bruises Izaya carried from catching corners too fast or being caught by corners, Shizuo had a matching scrape trickling red liquid or clotted with it.

Their route, under Izaya’s guidance, eventually led them to one of the larger parks in the city, predictably abandoned by both animals and people alike. Droplets of crimson to match Izaya’s eyes splashed onto the grass every few seconds, draining from a cut on Shizuo’s thigh he wasn’t entirely sure how he had acquired, and beads of sweat coated both his own and Izaya’s foreheads as they stood across from one another, Shizuo’s fist-clenched and Izaya’s knife-holding hands in limbo, breaths erratic and heavy yet not quite in time with one another’s. Neither made to move, each one’s arm suspended at hip level, just forward enough to adjust to defensive action should the need arise. Shizuo was sour to note that unlike his own slacks and jacket, Izaya’s alleged present was still fully intact, along with his smirk, which didn’t waver as he began to speak in an imitation of casually.

“Well, Shizu-chan, it’s been fun, but unlike you, some of us have business to attend to. I was, in fact, heading to place an order for a _friend_ when you so kindly interrupted me, and I don’t plan to have my day’s agenda ruined by the likes of you. For another day then?” He cocked his head at Shizuo lazily-- aside from the slyness of his grin, the relaxation of his facial muscles and died-down fire in his eyes made Izaya seem _bored,_ as if he had been _humoring_ Shizuo with the fight. As if he hadn’t been just as, if perhaps not more, enthusiastic to play with his new toy, to give his knife the first tastes of blood. As if Shizuo hadn’t seen the fervor in Izaya when he had approached the other on the street, hadn’t heard the buzz of adrenaline-driven anticipation in his laugh. He should have been used to it, he should, should have been used to Izaya treating Shizuo like a child whose affections he was _tolerating_ \-- only, rather than affections, it was all-consuming, murderous hatred-- should have been used to Izaya vacillating between claiming Shizuo was a monster the world needed to be rid of and acting like the loathing was one-sided. He had certainly come to terms with Izaya’s existence as a living duality, which was certainly what _caused_ the condescending treatment of Shizuo, as well as everyone the boy came across, but he was no closer to being _used_ to it. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Shizuo’s hands were still clenched in front of him when he replied, choosing, in a rare moment of self-control likely due to exhaustion, to attack with words rather than fists. “You don’t have friends, Izaya-kun, don’t delude yourself. Shinra maybe, but we both know you wouldn’t go so far as to do a single damn thing for him.”

“I never said I was their friend, I only said they were mine.” It wasn’t an admittance of defeat, not by any means, not when Izaya and his almost-sensical, wrap-around logic were involved.

“That’s not how friendship _works_ ,” Shizuo protested, but the anger on his tongue was cooler than it had been, fire lacking the proper oxygen to fully ignite.

Izaya shrugged, unfazed by Shizuo’s apparent claim to the definition of friendship. “It’s unrequited friendship, then. Like unrequited love. It’s still love, it just doesn’t go both ways. Haven’t you ever been in an unrequited love, Shizu-chan?” Without giving Shizuo a chance to insist that _no, he had not,_ had never been in love at all, in fact, Izaya continued. “I have, every day. And that’s perfectly okay with me! I love humans, but they don’t all love me back. They fascinate me with everything they do-- with their morals, with their passions, with their decisions, with their loves, and they’re oh-so-easily changed! With just one push a priest becomes a sinner, a realist becomes a romantic, a pacifist becomes a murderer-- the list goes on and on! But no matter what happens, I’ll love them, because they’re human.”

Having heard the speech in all forms before, Shizuo wasn’t surprised nor taken aback by Izaya’s words-- he simply glared at the other while he stared unseeing at a point just above the level of eye contact. It was only after Izaya had pocketed his knife and dismissed Shizuo with a wave of his hand, had walked nearly to the edge of the street that Shizuo spoke, whisper-quiet enough that even Izaya couldn’t hear.

“That’s not what love is, you know.”


	10. Assume The Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Money can't buy happiness.

“Will that be all, sir?” The woman behind the counter smiled at Izaya with overlined lips, their overly plump redness shining enough to reflect the intentionally inviting soft light of the store.

Izaya nodded, his grin dripping artificial sweetness to rival the clerk’s sickeningly fragrant perfume or the display candies comprised of pure sugar. Expectedly, she had been utterly enamored by the polite, well-mannered boy in front of her, composing claims such as “children these days are so disrespectful and spoiled!” and “young men should be more like you” and “I bet your mother taught you proper etiquette, didn’t she?” which had made Izaya’s smile widen in lieu of bursting out in laughter at the suggestion of his mother teaching him _anything_. Upon his arrival, the woman had expressed the utmost of concern for Izaya’s fresh bruises, and chided him to be more careful despite his selfless deeds upon his incredibly cliched explanation of saving a neighbor’s cat from a tree. Though his tales were typically far more imaginative, Izaya had told himself he was simply exhausted from his fight with Shizuo, that he couldn’t be bothered to fabricate something more believable and fantastical for someone as unsuspecting as her.

His total was rung up-- a rather hefty price, but Izaya paid without batting a dark eyelash. Imported Belgian chocolates didn’t come cheap, he knew, which was precisely the reason they would be Shizuo’s eighteenth birthday present from Kanra, and likely a far more luxurious treat than he had ever received in his lifetime.

“This for a sweetheart? You must be such a dedicated boyfriend to be buying expensive chocolates like this. I wish my husband would…”  
  
As Izaya feigned interest in the woman’s ramblings about her dysfunctional marriage, he found himself smirking internally at the hilarity of the situation-- of unassuming clerks (first at the stationary store, now at the confectionary) questioning whether the recipient of his gifts or purchases was his girlfriend, even though _he_ was the one undertaking the role of a love-stricken girl, as Kanra. It was rather amusing, the assumptions made in this game-- by outsiders, by Shizuo, by Shinra, even. By everyone save himself.  
  
Pre-fight, Shizuo had made yet another assumption regarding Izaya as well, though this wasn’t uncommon for the blond, who was quick to pin the blame of every negative happenstance concerning himself or every other student at Raijin on Izaya, though the accusations weren’t unwarranted, as more often than not Izaya _was_ the one pulling the strings if one were to trace the perpetrators to their origins. It was really rather flattering, that Shizuo had such confidence in Izaya’s abilities as an orchestrator of chaos, though chaos was most certainly not always his intention. How people were to respond to the pushing and pulling of their lives they believed (falsely) they were in control of was the question, discord was simply the most common response. However, Shizuo was also hasty to assume the worst of Izaya in other regards, as exampled no less than an hour ago with his belief Izaya had _stolen_ the money for his jacket and knife from his parents-- though unsurprisingly, given Izaya’s deceptive wording.

The memory of the red envelope was fresh in Izaya’s mind. He had long since lost faith in personalized Christmas gifts from his parents at the most, cards at the very least, and as so, no disappointment (were he capable of feeling it) sunk his heart. Mairu and Kururi’s faces, bright with hope at the arrival of the mail, had darkened at the contents of the envelope-- a store-bought card with a generic message on the inside, a hastily scrawled “love Mom and Dad” on the bottom, and three rather generous checks, enough for Izaya to indulge himself in the jacket he had had his eye on for some time as well as a new switchblade and the chocolates for Shizuo, and for his sisters to purchase new video games and posters of whichever idol they were currently in love with. So, while his parents weren’t aware of what he had bought with the money they had sent (and likely didn’t care), Izaya _hadn't_ stolen the money in this situation, though by no means was he above doing so were he to lack funds. Fortunately, he had ample cash left over from his middle school gambling ring with Nakura to fund his personal luxuries-- which apparently included expensive foreign chocolates for the boy whom he had just exchanged cuts and bruises with.

Running into Shizuo-- and then running _from_ Shizuo-- hadn’t been an intentional part of Izaya’s  day, but was an always welcome one. His heart rate remained elevated as he exited the store; he was hyper-conscious of the way it beat adrenaline into the pain of the bruises on his arms and legs, the violence that had ruptured each blood vessel as fresh on his mind as the taunts on his tongue. Weeks had passed since they had last encountered one another, though not since Izaya had seen Shizuo from a distance or communicated with him, unbeknownst to the other. It had been partially due to Izaya’s avoidance and partially due to luck they hadn’t crossed paths since Kanra had left her first note, though Izaya couldn’t help but feel the timing had been incredibly opportune-- the fight was a reminder that no matter how vulnerable and human Shizuo seemed over email, he was still an uncontrollable monster in person, one that Izaya was determined to test the inhuman extents of. And since Shizuo’s brute strength was triggered by fury, all he had to do was infuriate the other, something Izaya had never found difficulty in.

He had been honest in his last email to Shizuo-- he _wasn’t_ afraid of him, but Izaya had never fallen into the majority category of most humans’ mindsets, either. And apparently, neither was Kasuka Heiwajima, though Izaya couldn’t fathom a reason for the younger boy not to be terrified of the brother who, at fifteen years old, was able to survive being hit by a truck, and who, at seventeen years old, was able to single-handedly lift a vending machine and toss it across the street like a paper airplane. Izaya supposed it was his own general lack of fear that prevented him from being terrified of Shizuo, something he was grateful for, for without it he wouldn’t be able to exploit the other or fight on equal grounds, something only he was able to do. Though, he was curious as to the driving mentality of Kasuka’s lack of fear, as well. Was it familial love-- one of the few areas Izaya had little experience in? He loved his own family as he loved every other human-- blood relation didn’t put them above anyone else, as far as he was concerned. And his only friend didn’t particularly care for his father, let alone _love_ him. Perhaps there was something within Kasuka enabling him to love monsters, similarly to Shinra. What exactly that something was, he couldn’t imagine; monsters played by their own rules, thought processes illogical and untraceable, unable to evolve and change as humans were. It was a waste of time to attempt to understand something so _inhuman_ \-- that time was more effectively spent gauging human reactions to them, using them as the weapons they were meant to be. First, however, he needed to calculate what sort of tool exactly he was dealing with, as in the case of Shizuo Heiwajima.

The nondescript black vehicle that slowed to a stop beside Izaya as he sauntered down the sidewalk had any number of possible drivers, Izaya knew, but it wasn’t the person in control of the steering wheel that had any importance to him-- it was the man occupying the back seat with perfect posture that established authority rather than revealed tension, with lowered shoulders and a brow set in permanent irritation resulted from years of insolent, asinine clients with no better sense than attempting to double-cross the yakuza with far less prominence that even a teenage Izaya Orihara possessed.

“Shiki-san,” he began as the tinted window of the car began to roll down, exposing the associate inside. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The older man nodded in means of greeting. “I was passing by, is all. Don’t become egotistic over a polite hello.”

Izaya smiled at the prospect of a high-ranking member in the Awakusu-kai making use of his time to say _hello_ to a high school second-year. Though the group was perhaps a more formal and less drastically violent organization, Shiki wasn’t one to engage in any sort of action not directly beneficial to himself or the Awakusu-kai.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Shiki-san,” he replied cordially, the edges of his grin nearing the dangerous territory of a smirk. Remaining stoic, mouth in its same near-frown, the lines of his face tense but not tenser, Shiki stared at Izaya for a discomfortingly long moment; the man was one of few that could arise such uneasiness within him for possessing his level of accurate perception and judgement.

The executive spoke once more, eye contact unwavering despite their unequal height due to his position in the car. “While I’m here, however, I have the money for your last tip.” Pulling out an envelope, he reached to hand it to Izaya over the partition of the door. As he counted the bills inside, the corners of his mouth reached their destination of a smirk, eyes glimmering and mind calculating. He began to inform Shiki of a lower associate whom he had seen entering the building of a rival group with a known member-- the two had been chatting as though friends, though the immediate cause for Shiki’s brow tightening was the ring that had been on the man’s finger engraved with the symbol of the association.

Nodding, Shiki bid Izaya farewell, thanked him for the generous notification of his subordinate’s activities, and instructed the driver to continue to their destination. When the car was out of sight, Izaya stashed the envelope with double the amount of cash he should have received for sharing his last bit of news with the man inside his jacket pocket, hand brushing against his vibrating cell phone as he did so.

 _Kanra,_ _  
_ _I thought about your last letter for a while. I think you’re not afraid of me because you haven’t been the target of my violence. Everyone who has, and most who have seen it, are. If you’ve seen what I’m like and aren’t afraid that would definitely change if I accidentally tried to hurt you. Or even hurt you. My brother Kasuka is the only one who has seen my violence and been on the end of it that isn’t afraid. I don’t know why he isn’t. He should be. My parents pretend they’re not, but I know they’re at least a little afraid. Who could blame them, when I do things like try to throw a refrigerator at their other son. I haven’t hurt Kasuka ever, or tried to hurt him since then, but I could. I could hurt anyone. So that’s why they’re afraid. That’s why everyone’s afraid. I’m afraid too. I have one friend who isn’t afraid besides Kasuka though. He’s not afraid of anything I don’t think, though. Too busy looking at everything as a science experiment. Data and numbers can’t hurt you, so they’re not scary. It’s better to be seen as a statistic I guess, instead of a monster. Everyone sees me as a monster, except my family. My parents see me as a person, but they’re still afraid. You can be scared of someone and still love them, you know._


	11. A Guarded Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new method of communication suggested by Kanra allows the two to talk in real-time, although the results aren't what either had hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do this every time, I go over a month without updating and then apologize profusely, but here I am to do it again! 
> 
> I am so so so sorry for not updating, I am in over my head with four updating Shizaya fics at once, though hopefully soon it will be down to three. 
> 
> I'm also struggling from extreme lack of motivation and severe writer's block, so kudos and comments are super appreciated since they help kickstart my writing process and serve as great reminders of why I do all this!
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys enjoy the long awaited Chapter 11! Be sure to tell me what you think of the new format! I'm a fan, myself.

Shizuo had never found reason for owning a laptop-- email was accessible on the cell phone his mother insisted he carry for emergencies, though had lately been in use for the sole purpose of contacting Kanra, and the internet had never quite appealed to him, full of viruses and tricksters and filth as it was. The web was comprised largely, he knew, of anger-inducing elements, and though they weren’t purposefully designed for eliciting the fury within him they may as well have been. Occurrences of enragement versus rationality in response to a malfunction or advertisement held a high ratio in favor of the former; there was little in regards to computers that didn’t set Shizuo on edge, though he was loathe to admit most stemmed from his incompetence with technology.

Knowing this, knowing it was likely either a scam or an attempt to fuel his fire, Shizuo asked to use Kasuka’s laptop mere hours after the email had come. His brother wasn’t one to ask questions, though the blond chose to decipher the ever-confusing device with all its icons and options solo, managing to open the internet and, heeding Kanra’s instructions, navigate to the site the other had set up with only mild cursing and an occasional clench of the jaw or a fist. Upon arrival, what caught Shizuo’s attention wasn’t the prompt to create a profile, but how nondescript the site was-- though he knew little about such things, it rather struck him as though the page had been coded by a novice, not an expert as Shizuo had presumed upon reading today’s letter. Perhaps Kanra was aware of his lack of experience with the internet and had designed the page to be purposefully simplistic? It was unlikely; never had the two conversed about computers or websites aside the functionality of email before, and it wasn’t something Shizuo often dwelled upon, anyhow. It was far more likely Shizuo had drawn conclusions in regards to the other’s knowledge-- despite Kanra’s self-proclamations they were “odd”, they never had mentioned web design as one of their interests or talents, only browsing internet forums, a pastime that required no such background in coding whatsoever.

Shizuo shook his head. His thoughts were escaping him in search of procrastination-- what did he care if his correspondent and admirer had a knack for programming? It was an admirable skill, and one not many-- especially teenagers-- possessed, but certainly there were other high points about the other, even if they were negligent in professing any themself. Kanra was understanding; in contrast to his original misconception they were simply smitten with his looks, Kanra was able to relate and sympathize with his ostracization and isolation on an uncanny level-- they too only had one close friend, spent most of their days alone since, unlike Shizuo, they had a strained relationship with their much-younger siblings. Though they had never revealed their emotions in regards to their solitude, their words gave off a sense of loneliness, and while at first he had mistaken the constant re-routing of conversations towards himself as curiosity, shyness, or even creepiness, he had come to realize the truth-- Kanra was an extremely guarded individual. Whether it was in protection of their identity or an unconscious mechanism of their personality, he wasn’t sure, but Shizuo was strongly inclined to the latter-- the other had no qualms about revealing personal factions and information, even such as their family life or drink order (they preferred tea-- Shizuo had sent an inquiry following his visit to the coffee shop the other day, the visit that had been tainted by his run-in with Izaya), yet never once had they revealed their feelings on any matter aside Shizuo. He was, however, somewhat hopeful this newest development would change that.

 

_ >> 22:34: Shizuo has entered the chatroom << _

_  
_ _Shizuo: Do I just type in the box?_

_Shizuo: I guess so._

.  
.  
.

The minutes ticked by. Shizuo stared at the brightness of the screen and the simple white-on-black of the text and boxes of the chat-room until dimness, and finally dark, overcame them. Unsure of exactly why there was a stirring of impatience running its course through his bloodstream and edging its way through his mind via the racing of his thoughts-- though he knew little about the internet and even less in regards to online communication aside from email, he was fairly certain there was no programmable alert Kanra could have set to notify them of his presence in the chat room, and it wasn’t as if they would have been _waiting_ for him-- Shizuo found himself typing in the address of his email provider, and without pausing, lettering his own notification to the other, foregoing even his usual less-than-formal address and signature in favor of timeliness.

_Kanra, I figured out how to get to the chat room. I’m there now._

 

_ >> 23:09: Kanra has entered the chatroom << _

 

_Kanra: Hi! >w< _

 

_ >> 23:13: Shizuo has entered the chatroom << _

 

_Shizuo: Oh, hey. I thought maybe you weren’t going to be online tonight._

 

_Kanra: Well I got your email and I couldn’t leave you hanging! I was worried maybe you wouldn’t be, since it’s so late >n< _

 

_Shizuo: Well I’ll probably go soon. I just wanted to make sure this worked._

 

_Kanra: I’m glad it does, I wanted to have a chance to talk to you live..._

 

_Shizuo: It’s impressive, setting this whole thing up. I barely know how to open the internet._

 

_Shizuo: And when I do open it there’s so much that can make me angry. I’m borrowing my brother’s laptop so I really don’t want to break it. But I also wanted to talk to you like this too._

 

_Shizuo: Sorry, that was a lot._

 

_Kanra: No it’s okay!_

 

_Kanra: I guess we’re opposites like that, I spend a lot of time online._

 

_Kanra: But there are a lot of trolls >o< _

 

_Kanra: You’re always so sweet about your brother though <3 _

 

_Shizuo: Trolls? Like the little green guys? What do they do on the internet???_

 

_Shizuo: What do you do on the internet?_

 

_Shizuo: Ha… I guess, maybe._

 

_Kanra: No, trolls are people who post fake information on the internet, or pretend to be someone they’re not, stuff like that. It’s scary!_

 

_Kanra: There’s lots of information online, I like doing research on all sorts of stuff and visiting forums. You can meet all sorts of people, too! >w< _

 

_Shizuo: I see._

 

_Shizuo: Do you meet people a lot?_

 

_Kanra: Yes! Adults or teenagers like us, everyone has something to look for. Even kids!_

 

_Kanra: There are forums and message boards and sites for everything! You can see people with the most fascinating hobbies and interests if you know where to look. It’s really cool!_

 

_Shizuo: How do you know people are who they say they are?_

 

_Shizuo: I’d think everyone was a “troll” and go into a rage._

 

_Kanra: You don’t, but that’s what makes it so interesting. Even if what people are posting are lies, someone had to come up with whatever they’re talking about, which makes it fun anyways!_

 

_Shizuo: Uh_

  
_  
Shizuo: I guess._

 

_Kanra: ^o^ It’s okay if you don’t agree with me! You don’t have to._

 

_Shizuo: What do you even search for?_

 

_Shizuo: There’s so much stuff, I wouldn’t know where to start._

 

_Kanra: You could always look up videos of cats! =^w^=_

 

_Shizuo: Is that what you do?_

 

_Kanra: Sometimes! Mostly I like to go on websites where people post about their troubles, or things that have happened to them! Their lives, I guess._

 

_Shizuo: So do you give advice to ‘em or something?_

 

_Kanra: Mhm!! ^u^_

 

_Shizuo: That’s nice of you._

 

_Shizuo: Usually I get mad at people’s problems if they’re ridiculous._

 

_Shizuo: So you’re more tolerant than me, Kanra._

 

_Kanra: ^///v///^ A compliment from Shizuo! Thank you sooooooo much!!! <3 _

 

_Kanra: But really, I just like to see if people will take my advice or not, that’s all!_

 

_Kanra: It isn’t such a big deal >o< _

 

_Kanra: Shizuo is very tolerant for talking to a person like me, I think!_

 

_Shizuo: Well, it’s easy, because you don’t trigger my temper._

 

_Shizuo: If you did, that would be different._

 

_Shizuo: But I’m glad you don’t._

 

_Kanra: I’m glad I don’t either!_

 

_Kanra: I wouldn’t want to infuriate the person I love, or have him go into a violent rage because of something I said or did._

 

_Kanra: Not that I’d blame him if he did! Or be upset with him._

 

_Kanra: Because he can’t control it, and it’s part of who he is! And since I love him, I love everything about him, including his anger, and his violence._

 

_Shizuo: Um. Thanks._

 

_Shizuo: Sorry, I’ve never had someone tell me something like that before._

 

_Shizuo: And I never imagined someone would, either._

 

_Shizuo: So I’m not really sure how to react._

 

_Shizuo: But it feels nice, I think. So, thank you._

 

_Kanra: You’re welcome!_

 

_Kanra: I’m happy to tell you again and again, as many times as it takes until you believe it!_

.  
.  
.

_Kanra: Shizuo?_

 

_Shizuo: Sorry. Sorry, I’m pretty bad at conversations._

 

_Kanra: It’s okay. I think I talk enough for both halves of a conversation, sometimes. Or at least, I’ve been told I do._

 

_Shizuo: I thought you were shy?_

 

_Kanra: Just because I prefer to observe doesn’t mean I’m shy. I’m pretty outgoing, in fact! I’d like to say I can hold a conversation with anyone, since I’m usually good at knowing what other people like to talk about >u< _

 

_Shizuo: Oh._

 

_Shizuo: This is the most I’ve heard you talk about yourself, I think._

 

_Kanra: Really?! I think I talk about myself a lot!_

 

_Shizuo: Well, you do. But usually it’s how other people see you, or facts about yourself._

 

_Shizuo: You don’t like to talk about your feelings._

 

_Kanra: I talk about my feelings towards you!_

  
_  
Shizuo: That’s… different._

 

_Kanra: Is it?! Maybe I’m just not a super emotional person!_

 

_Shizuo: I don’t think that’s it._

 

_Kanra: Then what is it?!_

 

_Shizuo: Well, I think you’re the same as me._

 

_Kanra: What do you mean? >o< _

 

_Shizuo: You’re afraid to get close to people. I don’t know why. I’d like to know why, though._

 

_Shizuo: I’m afraid because of my violence. But I don’t think you have anything like that._

 

_Kanra: You’re wrong, Shizuo >n< _

 

_Kanra: I’m not afraid to get close to people, I just choose not to._

 

_Shizuo: Does that include me?_

 

_Shizuo: Are you choosing not to get close to me?_

 

_Kanra: I’m in love with you, aren’t I?!_

 

_Shizuo: That’s not an answer._

 

_Kanra: It’s the truth, though!_

 

_Shizuo: I don’t know if it’s the truth or a lie, since I don’t know you._

 

_Shizuo: So I can’t call you a liar._

 

_Shizuo: But liars make me angry._

 

_Shizuo: I hope you’re not a liar, Kanra._

 

_Shizuo: Good night._

 

_ >> 00:20: Shizuo has exited the chatroom << _

 

_Kanra: Good night, Shizu-chan~_

 

_Kanra: Just one more thing! <3 _

  
_Kanra: I could never love you since you aren’t a human, you know._


	12. Tip The Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya is caught figuratively and literally off balance, both by Shizuo and himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! This fic isn't dead!!!
> 
> If you're still reading: thanks for sticking with me this long, though!!! <3
> 
> If you forgot about this fic or thought it was dead: I can't blame you at all, it's been four and a half months ^^;;
> 
> If you're just joining in: I hope you like it!
> 
> I can't promise a regular update schedule, for all I know it could be another 5 months. But I'm still here!
> 
> Yup, that's about it. Kudos are appreciated if you like the fic and haven't left any, as are comments! :D

“One step forward and two steps back”-- wasn’t that how the saying went? It wasn’t a quote Izaya abided by or even particularly believed in-- the implication that humans were incapable of progress was laughable to him, a notion contrived by faux existentialists who were so devoid of logic as to either believe humanity had reached its peak and was destined for declination or that society was in nature incapable of truly advancing. And perhaps it _was_ true on a national or global scale, though he doubted so, but politics had always disinterested Izaya-- where his concern lay was with _individual_ evolution, where the aforementioned principle could not be generalized to apply. Case-to-case it varied; all people possessed the ability to better themselves and progress, though not all chose to utilize it. In all number of situations, where one might turn advantageous a situation of particular failure, another was just as apt to fall to self-destruction following a success; thus, “one step forward and two steps back” could not be said to apply to all. For some, it was a path to ruling without so much as a side-step-- for others, the road was as turbulent and full of movement of all direction as a waltz.

Izaya belonged to neither category, was of a separate nature due to his lack of movement-- rather than progressing either forward or backward, he remained stagnant, situated unmoving as though bolted to the rooftop of a high-rise Tokyo apartment, near enough the ledge he was able to view the city and all its humans as they made infinite steps forward and back.

There was another he knew of, another who stood in place, though this individual’s dormancy was hindered by incapability rather than determined by choice-- he was by no means capable of progressing, for as Sisyphus and the boulder, he remained underneath humanity, destined to fall back to the depths of the underworld where monsters laid as soon as grass was near. All advancement of Shizuo Heiwajima was only perceived, simply a mirage that swam in the visions of humans dehydrated by pity and illogic-- a mirage Izaya was on his way to dissipating, dissipating by assisting the monster with his pushing of the rock uphill (though it was unnecessary, perhaps, due to the factor that rendered the other inhuman to begin with) only to nudge it downward once more once the two reached the top. Betrayal, in Izaya’s experience, was an act of significant intensity-- enough so, he was gauging, to destroy any other’s perceptions of humanity within Shizuo during and following the destruction he would surely cause at the revelation the first taste of alliance and friendship he had had in his eighteen years was sugar-coated poison.

Poison, however, would not be present in the gift that had likely arrived at the Heiwajimas’ doorstep that morning-- a hand-wrapped rectangular parcel tied with brown and pink ribbon, a note attached with manufactured cursive on its white background reading “to: Shizuo love: Kanra” on one side and “happy birthday” on the opposite. Inside would be an assortment of imported Belgian chocolates, fillings ranging from strawberry creme to fudge to caramel, in a hand-picked range of flavors Izaya had been sure the other would find enjoyable and tantalizingly sweet. How Shizuo had the stomach for such sugary delicacies Izaya didn’t question; though it would be more appropriate if he fed upon souls or muck, the candy and chocolate he consumed could be said to be garbage of a sort, if only for one’s health, and the fact his teeth remained pearly white every time he bared them in a scowl or grin edged with adrenaline-driven mania only attested to the inhuman properties of his body. A body that would likely render necessary ten times the dosage of poison to kill an average man to cause fatality.

But Izaya wasn’t so simple-minded nor disillusioned, he was well aware that, despite his efforts to, were he to kill Shizuo now, he would be regarded as the monster. Soon enough, however, any lingering doubts of others of Shizuo’s inhumanity would be dead, stabbed through the heart just as Shizuo would be, though the organ wasn’t yet quite soft enough that a knife would do significant damage, even if it were to be made out of the sharpest of double-edged treacheries. In order to weaken what had been hardened by years of isolation, ostracization, and provocation, Izaya would need to have Shizuo trust him, trust _Kanra,_ trust that another truly cared for him despite his violence. And if their first conversation in the chatroom was to be considered a testament despite the alteration in communication mode, Shizuo’s trust of Kanra remained vacillating, a back-and-forth sway between belief and doubt, between faith and dubiety. Izaya intended to off-put that balance, undistribute the evenness to push the other to leaning, slowly tipping him further and further from the mistrust fueled by his own insecurity.

It wasn’t to say that the two-day lapse in communication between Kanra and Shizuo was a failure, nor was Thursday night’s conclusion to their chat. Rather, Shizuo was more likely to trust Kanra if he had an opportunity to collect himself and think their chat over-- an opportunity that he rarely had, in terms of encounters with Izaya. Time and its lack of existence and failure to hold relevance online was one of the most beautiful qualities of the internet. A post could spread to the remote corners of the Earth within milliseconds, and even disregarding the complexity and incredibility the technology held, social media possessed the power to annex time even further via internet fame and spontaneous virality. There was little that the internet was incapable of in terms of accelerating or decelerating the clock-- conversations could be put on hold for hours or days without the cumbersome interactions that occur until the subject at hand was revitalized. And with Shizuo, the freezing of time could perhaps be the key to decomposing his temper long enough to gain trust.

Time, however, would not be stopped in reality. Izaya tapped a pen idly against his desk and threaded it through his fingers at the knuckles. In all likelihood, Shizuo was out to dinner with his parents and younger brother at the moment, at some restaurant that skirted the edge between casual and elegant-- just enough so that Shizuo could feel a sense of self-conscious embarrassment as he ordered a steak, wearing the button-down shirt his mother had likely insisted he don to celebrate the date of his birth. The practice of celebrating birthdays had always struck Izaya as arbitrary. It was a day of presents and congratulations on being born, something the birthday person had no control over. There were many, he was certain, who wished they _hadn’t_ been born, in which case it was a cruel reminder of just how unfortunate and unfair the world had been to bring them into it.

Despite Shizuo loathing and resenting his strength and violence, Izaya was fairly certain that the other was not in fact of those who held bitterness towards their own existences. And despite the fact Shizuo was a monster, Izaya did not hold bitterness towards his existence either. Without Shizuo, Izaya would have never loved humanity as much as he did, for without knowing humanity’s opposite he could never know humanity itself. For without darkness, there could not be light. In a sense, he himself would not exist in the way he did without Shizuo’s existence. It was an alarming thought, that the other had contributed to him in some way, though Izaya supposed he would rather it be him than another. The thought of Shizuo tainting another person’s existence, the thought of Shizuo being in another person’s life enough to change them…

Such a closeness between Shizuo and another was unthinkable, implausible, unnatural, _impossible_ , and yet the idea disturbed Izaya anyway. He would consider himself the least likely and least capable of anyone he knew-- including Shinra-- to exhibit empathy for others, let alone hypothetical _strangers_ , so it certainly couldn’t be the idea of the other person in the situation Shizuo would get close to someone that gnawed at his stomach at clawed at his mind. Nor, however, could it be _Shizuo_ in such a scenario that made his muscles tense and fingers curl into a fist so tight his nails sunk into the palm of his hand. The latter was so incredulous, in fact, it was humorous. Izaya leaned back in his chair, hands still balled into fists, and began to laugh, laugh with enough force he lost balance and the chair toppled backwards so abruptly and violently he would have either been concussed or knocked out had he not rolled out of the way at the last second, avoiding his skull cracking against the head of the wooden chair.

As it was, he landed heavily on his right shoulder, weight shifting off-center in such a way that the force of gravity pushed him from his side to flat on his back. Dull pain shot from his shoulder down his arm, and after sitting up and rotating the joint several times to ensure he hadn’t dislocated it, he blinked as if dumbfounded, taking in the sight of the knocked-over chair splayed on the dark wood of his floor. Izaya imagined it had made quite the racket, though Mairu and Kururi were unlikely to check on him or acknowledge the noise. It would be no surprise to him if the twins were downstairs wishing his demise or grave injury. Holding his right shoulder with his left arm as if in only half of a straightjacket, Izaya glanced towards the chair with intent of examining its legs. Surely one was unstable-- his own balance was so precisely honed that the chance of him falling backward in a simple desk chair was nearly nonexistent. However, before he had the opportunity to further inspect, a chime came from the laptop under his bed.

  


_ >> 23:23: Shizuo has entered the chatroom << _

_Shizuo: Hi._

 

_Shizuo: Uh._

 

_Shizuo: I’m sorry about last time._

 

_Shizuo: Oh, you can’t see this can you. I’ll wait, then._

 

_ >> 23:30: Kanra has entered the chatroom << _

 

_Kanra: Hi Hi!!!_

 

_Kanra: Happy birthday Shizuo!! <3 _

 

_Shizuo: Hi Kanra._

 

_Shizuo: Thanks._

 

_Kanra: Did Shizuo like my gift?_

 

_Shizuo: I did._

 

_Shizuo: A lot._

 

_Kanra: Yay!!! ^u^_

 

_Shizuo: But… imported chocolate is expensive._

 

_Kanra: It’s okay! Kanra has lots of money._

 

_Kanra: And it’s better to spend money on others, right? ^o^_

 

_Shizuo: I guess, yeah._

 

_Kanra: Plus, it’s Shizuo’s 18th birthday!_

 

_Kanra: I had to get you something special._

 

_Kanra: So you would know Kanra loves you!_

  
_  
Shizuo. Thanks… _

 

_Shizuo: I wanted to say sorry about last time._

 

_Kanra: Sorry?!_

  
_  
Shizuo: I think I pushed you too far._

 

_Shizuo: Then we both got upset._

 

_Kanra: Oh, no worries! I could never be upset with you!_

 

_Kanra: I don’t get upset very often, actually ^o^_

 

_Shizuo: I know it’s your choice whether to tell me about yourself._

 

_Shizuo: I’m being selfish by asking to know more._

 

_Kanra: ?!?!?!?!?!_

 

_Kanra: Kanra will tell you anything you want!_

 

_Kanra: Except who Kanra is!_

 

_Shizuo: No, we both know that’s not true._

 

_Shizuo: But that’s fine._

 

_Shizuo: I’ll wait until you want to tell me._

 

_Kanra: I’ll tell you!_

 

_Kanra: Just ask._

 

_Shizuo: I want to know who you are._

 

_Shizuo: More than just your name._

 

_Shizuo: I know what you like, and dislike, and what you do._

 

_Shizuo: But I don’t know what you think._

 

_Shizuo: There’s more to a person than just interests._

 

_Shizuo: There’s more to a person than just facts._

 

_Shizuo: A person has feelings and emotions. Good and bad ones._

 

_Shizuo: You say you’re in love with me, but what kind of love?_

  
  
_Shizuo: What kind of love do you have?_

  
  
_Shizuo: Not just for me._

 

_Shizuo: What do you love? Who do you love?_

  
_  
Shizuo: Do you love reading? Movies? Food? _

 

_Shizuo: Do you love your family? Do you love animals, or kids?_

  
_  
Shizuo: Are you a romantic person? _

 

_Shizuo: Do you get emotional? What makes you laugh, or cry?_

 

_Shizuo: I want to know..._

  
_  
Shizuo: What does love feel like?_

 

_ >> 23:59: Kanra has exited the chatroom << _

 

_Shizuo: Fuck._

 

_Shizuo: FUCK!_

 

_Shizuo: Hahahahaha._

  
_Shizuo: Love makes you say things you shouldn’t, you know._


End file.
